All These Things
by Devildream69
Summary: It's been two years since the war's end. And Ron and Hermione are still together happy as can be. Just as everyone had said. They're happy together... Aren't they? Then, from the person she least expected to see again, a seed of doubt is planted. She loves Ron but she is not in love with him. The seed grows to a forbidden love of such magnitude she could never have imagined.
1. Chapter 1: The things we tell ourselves

**Title:** All of these things  
**Chapter 1:** The things we tell ourselves  
**Parings**: LM/HG, RW/HG (implied)  
**Rating:** M  
**Disclaimer:** All rights to their rightful owners. I am not making any money writing this.  
**Summary:** It's been two years since the war finished. And Ron and Hermione are still together happy as can be. Just as they should be. Just as everyone said they would be. It was expected. They are happy together. They really are. Aren't they? Hermione find herself wondering if after all they've been through, after two years together if this is all there really is to 'Love'. Isn't that what she truly feels about Ron? But then, from the person she least expected to see again, a seed of doubt is planted. She loves Ron, but she is not in love with him. How will she react when that seed begins to grow, into a forbidden love of such magnitude she had never imagined it possible?

* * *

_He put it on me_  
_I put it on_  
_Like there was nothing wrong_  
_It didn't fit,_  
_It wasn't right_  
_Wasn't just the size,_  
_They say you know when you know_  
_I don't know_  
_I didn't feel the fairytale feeling,_  
_Am I just a stupid girl for even dreaming?_

_Not like the movies- Katy Perry_

Hermione held back a groan as the assistant to Twilfitt's and Tattings' owner explained that her dress order had been delayed by another hour, at least, due to a certain rich client who had an emergency repair come in just that morning, and they had had to put aside her dress and take care of one of their main benefactor's needs first and foremost.

She couldn't blame them, really. She did understand, but that meant she would have to wait for at least an hour before getting back to work at the Ministry.

She asked if she might borrow their owl to send a note to her boss. Irving Rathmoor was not an understanding boss and she was not looking forward to explaining that she would be late for the meeting that afternoon.

The assistant suggested that while she wait, she go across the road and enjoy at cup of coffee at the book store and coffee shop, The Cat's Tale.

She thanked the man and hurried over to the shop. A cup of coffee was just what she needed.

She sat down in a window seat just as it began to rain. Hermione quickly selected a book and sat down with a peppermint mocha latte in hand. She tried to read the book she had chosen and for a while she was engrossed in the world of Hungarian horntails and they're histories, and that held her attention for the better part of 45 minutes, but then the rain really began to poor down and she despaired at having to cross the street once again.

Hermione huffed annoyed that she had to be here getting this stupid dress for the Ministry's celebration in a few weeks' time. Ron had been ordered by his boss at the Ministry to attend of all things, the Minister of Magic's celebration of two years in office successfully free of war.

All the important members of the resistance were required to attend and seeing as she was part of what had become known as the Golden Trio, she had also been subjected to the summons. Which explained why she was here, waiting for a silly dress, instead of at work in the Misuse and Abuse and Defence of Magical Creatures department at the Ministry.

She glanced at her watch and noticed that she still had about 10 minutes to wait before it was supposed to be ready, but she figured it would be better to wait for it at Twilfitt and Tattings'

She pulled out her wand and transfigured her empty paper coffee cup into an umbrella. She used it to get across the street hurrying to get out of the cold and wet weather. It was late October in the UK after all.

She pulled her red trench coat tighter around her feeling the cold wind biting at her neck and seeping into her fingers through the leather gloves she wore.

As she reached the door of the shop it was pulled open just as she was about to push through and she stumbled, into the arms of a stranger.

She was about to apologize when she found herself looking straight into the eyes of someone she had hoped to never see again.

She gasped audibly, and flinched in the man's strong arms.

Blonde almost white hair, grey eyes that chilled the soul, high cheekbones, and a straight aristocratic nose tapering down towards a chiselled mouth. At the moment, the face that had haunted her nightmares for the past two years, was glaring at her with pursed lips.

Lucius Malfoy was looking down at her clearly annoyed to find a 'mudblood' in his arms.

"Miss Granger." The smooth voice drawled, "I trust you won't make a habit of knocking into people without provocation or warning."

For all appearances he appeared displeased, but some small part of Hermione's self-conscious noted that he had not released her.

"I—n-no." She stuttered. Hermione found it increasingly hard to form coherent sentences. The last time she had seen Lucius Malfoy it had been when Bellatrix Lestrange had been torturing her in the dining room of his home. She could still hear her own screams in her ears, feel the knife as it dug in, she could still smell the blood as it dripped down her arm onto the hardwood floor of Malfoy Manor.

And the _pain_— Bellatrix had used the Cruciatus curse again and again and _again_ until she'd lost count— she shuddered. The pain was unforgettable.

The sound of a voice being cleared pulled her back to the present. "I was distracted. Please, excuse me." She murmured, her voice trembling almost inaudibly. She pulled out of his grip all at once and walked past him.

"Miss Granger?" His voice made her stop in her tracks. She turned around slowly, trying very hard to school her features and her voice to keep the fear and pain from them. "Yes Mr. Malfoy?"

"I believe you forgot this." He held out her umbrella. She must have dropped it when they collided without noticing.

"Oh. Yes. Thank you." The words sounded wooden and said through clenched teeth. She took the umbrella from his gloved hand, reluctantly.

He reached out to touch her arm and she instinctively pulled back cringing into herself.

"Miss Granger, are you quite alright?" A familiar sneer of contempt on his mouth.

Suddenly she felt all her old hatred of him boiling to the surface again.

"Mr. Malfoy. Do you recall the last time we saw each other?" She paused letting her words wipe the smirk off his face.

"But I've been remiss in my manners," She continued, her anger making her voice tremble with emotion, "Have the bloodstains come out of the dining room floor yet?" She hissed at him.

He said nothing. But he didn't need to. His eyes conveyed deep sense of hatred, deprecation, and resentment

"So Mr. Malfoy," She nearly spat the words at him, "Ask me again if I'm 'alright'?"

He looked her up and down once assessing her form, as if truly seeing her for the first time.

"Are you alright Miss Granger? Truly?" He asked with no trace of pretentiousness.

Rather she detected a look of what might have been sincerity in his cold grey eyes. In anyone else she might have believed it. But not from him. What did he want from her? For some inexplicable reason it made her feel guilty for bringing up the past.

"I— yes of course I'm fi— " she paused, ready to spout the usual platitudes but looking at the blonde man in front of her again she asked herself 'What's the point? He would see through the lie.' Somehow she knew he of all people would see right through her.

"I don't know…" She paused to draw in a shaky breath, seriously considering his question.

And for some unknown reason she was truthful in her answer, "No. I don't think I am." A small breathless laugh escaped her.

The sound held no mirth and sounded brittle and forced even to her own ears.

The nightmares had continued to haunt her for the past two years, faces of people who she had seen die, the screams of those she loved. She hadn't talked to anyone about it. Not once had she ever disclosed all of remaining agony left inside of her caused by the war.

Yet here she was admitting to a man she professed to hate, that she was still damaged by the past events.

"Ah." He breathed, managing to make the sound remorseful. "That is unfortunate."

"And you?" She asked the words out of her mouth before she could sensor herself.

"Excuse me?" His usually smooth expression creased into one of puzzlement.

Something unknown pushed her to ask the dangerous question on her lips.

"Are you alright Mr. Malfoy?"

Why had she asked that? She didn't care…did she? She tried to persuade herself that it was only out of politeness that she had bothered to ask.

He frowned also considering her words. "No, Miss Granger." He sighed and she noted his shoulders fell slightly as he spoke, "I don't believe that I am 'alright' either."

"Oh." She breathed the word falling from her lips almost inaudibly. "That is unfortunate."

Her repetition of his earlier statement made the corners of his mouth quirk just slightly. Hermione thought she might be detecting a slight hint of amusement in his stormy grey eyes.

For a moment neither party spoke. He continued to look into her eyes and Hermione found herself lost in the sea of grey, blue and silver streaks of his irises.

She couldn't look away.

What were they doing?

She didn't know, but she knew she didn't want to look away.

This time when he reached out for her, she didn't pull away. He took her hand in his own, and pressed a kiss to the top of it. Despite the glove Hermione felt the heat of his mouth and the pressure of his lips as if it had burned her.

She pulled her hand away swiftly her eyes flashing with indignation and confusion.

Why had he done such a thing? To her? A 'mudblood'? Why would he offer her such a sign of respect?

"Goodbye Miss Granger." He murmured and then he walked off into the rain.

She couldn't help watching his retreating back as he made his way to the corner of the street then turned out of her line of sight.

"Miss? Miss is everything alright?" The shop attendant asked when he noticed her still standing in the doorway staring after the disappearing form of Lucius Malfoy. "What? Oh yes, I'm alright." Her voice sounded like it was coming from far away.

That was a lie. She was most definitely not 'alright.'

As soon as she had the damned dress in hand, she apparated back to her flat. Ron was out at work for the Quidditch match in Berlin, thank Merlin. She sent an owl to the ministry calling in sick. She didn't feel like she could go back to work today.

The encounter with Lucius Malfoy had disturbed previously dormant memories. She went up to her room to lie down. Maybe sleep could block out the faces, the screams, the death. She shut her eyes and saw flashes of green, and dead faces floating behind her closed eyelids.

She wept then, bitter tears of confusion, hatred, anger and resentment but above all _pain._ The old memories saw to that.

Of all the people to die, of all the ones who lived why had she been allowed to survive?

Why had _he?_

When so many others who only sought to do good had died.

She sighed heavily, the tears constricting her throat. She looked around the room she shared with Ron. It wasn't much but it was— no. It was not 'home.' She did not feel relieved to return here every night. She did not feel happy at the thought of sleeping beside her boyfriend. She did not want to live here. Things between her and Ron had been tense lately. They seemed to always be arguing and the things they wanted, no longer seemed the same. The sex had become awkward and was a wholly unsatisfactory experience for Hermione.

She wondered why they were still together. The answer was rather obvious wasn't it? It was expected. They were good together. Weren't they? She loved him... Didn't she? Is that what she felt? Is that all love truly was?

If that was true then why did she feel so hollow?

She could feel a headache beginning in the back of her skull and temples. She groaned and rubbed the back of her neck.

Closing her eyes once again, she tried to sleep. It took her the better part of an hour before Morpheus' arms greeted her.

And in her sleep, she dreamt.

She dreamed of clear grey eyes. And in her dream, she saw something that had been there in Lucius Malfoy's eyes that she had not been able to see while awake.

She saw the flicker of regret.

~TBC~

* * *

(A/n: Oh dear, they still have a long way to go. So am I off to a good start? – Tell me what you think in the comments!)


	2. Chapter 2: The things that confuse us

Title: All of these things  
Chapter 2: The things that confuse us  
Parings: LM/HG, RW/HG (implied)  
Rating: M  
Disclaimer: All rights to their rightful owners. I am not making any money writing this.  
Summary: It's been two years since the war finished. And Ron and Hermione are still together happy as can be. Just as they should be. Just as everyone said they would be. It was expected. They are happy together. They really are. Aren't they? Hermione find herself wondering if after all they've been through, after two years together if this is all there really is to 'Love'. Isn't that what she truly feels about Ron? But then, from the person she least expected to see again, a seed of doubt is planted. She loves Ron, but she is not in love with him. How will she react when that seed begins to grow, into a forbidden love of such magnitude she had never imagined it possible?

_~~~_

Holding my breath  
I wait for you  
What is this burning sensation  
A shiver runs up my spine  
Your kiss is demanding  
Your hands are cold  
My skin is on fire  
I look in your eyes  
I can't deny it  
I'm burning with desire

Undeniably burning- Edna Carlisle

_-2 days later-  
_

Hermione was running late for the meeting of the Board of Governors concerning the Veela and their fight for the right to marry wizards in Great Britain.

She hurried through the last hall before finally arriving just in time to truly begin the presentation of arguments.

As it happens one other person was running late and arrived just behind her, but she didn't notice until Irving Rathmoor exclaimed as he saw her enter, "Ah Hermione, you've made it. Governor Malfoy, good to see you."

Hermione gasped and spun around to see the face of Lucius Malfoy looking down at her with a familiar sneer and the quirk of an eyebrow. A moment passed and neither of them spoke.

"Miss Granger I do believe we are required to sit during this meeting." He drawled almost derisively.

Hermione glared at the blond man but with so many others within hearing distance she could only reply, "Yes of course." She went to find her usual seat beside Madelva Hawthorn.

But Malfoy seemed to be following her in the same direction and she frowned wondering what he was doing, until she saw that there were only two places left at the whole table. She felt her heart jump in her chest at the thought of being seated beside Lucius Malfoy for the better part of two hours.

Hermione was about to sit down when Malfoy took the back of her chair and pulled it out for her. His eyes held the glint of mischief. It was clear he expected her to sit down. The arrogance of his assumption picked her inner lion pride. Instead, she pulled out the chair beside it scraping the wooden legs noisily on the marble floor and sat down in it, completely ignoring the proffered chair. He seemed to take it in stride instead seating himself in her usual chair smirking all the while.

What the devil was he playing at? Damn him. How dare he show up here and make her feel all flustered and – "Miss Granger you may begin," Intoned Irving Rathmoor.

She took a deep breath, stood up and began to speak , "Well as you all know the Veela's current stance concerning the marriage law has altered dramatically these last few months and we have been working closely in relations with Fleur Delacour and her extended family members to create better relations within the Veela culture and our own…"

Hermione explained the current situation to the Board of Governors and outlined a few possible solutions that could result in peaceful dealings with the Veela's for the foreseeable future.

During the whole first hour Lucius appeared to be politely attentive. After her part of the presentation of facts was over she sat back down, happy to allow her colleagues to continue.

She placed her hand on the arm of the chair. Lucius was seated in the chair to her left. Their chairs were placed in rather cramped proximity but seeing as there were so many people in attendance today it was understandable.

Then, Lucius shifted in his chair, rotating it just ever so slightly.

It was just close enough to brush his fingers along the side of Hermione's hand. She started at the unexpected contact but quickly regained her composure. The brief contact had sent a pleasant shiver up her spine. '_What in god's name..?' _She thought, startled at her body's reaction.

She shot him a sidelong glance, wondering if he was up to something, but he seemed to not have noticed. A few minutes passed, and nothing more happened.

It must have simply been an accident, she thought, releasing a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding. She tried to turn her attention back to the meeting at hand.

But then, the touch was repeated. Just the lightest brush of his fingertips against the outer edge of her palm. This time the gesture was clearly intentional. This time he did not pull his hand away, instead choosing to allow the contact to last.

Hermione felt her breath quicken and a faint blush tinged her cheeks.

She didn't pull her hand away.

Neither did he.

He looked at her, assessing her reaction to the continued contact, seeing her face flushed and her breathing had become shaky, his look became nothing less than smoldering. Grey eyes burning into her own, Hermione licked her dry lips swallowed hard. His gaze followed her motion and returned to look her in the eyes once more. Hermione felt as though she had been hypnotized. She could not tear her gaze away.

A clearing of Madelva's throat snapped her out of her trance like state and she jerked her eyes away from his. She could only pray, no one had noticed their continued eye contact.

Lucius leaned in to murmur in her ear, "Miss Granger, are you quite alright?" Even she could see the irony in that question, the same question from their previous encounter, although in a rather different context this time.

She could feel his breath against her neck and the shell of her ear, his mouth was much too close to her skin. She imagined those firm, full, lips on her own, along her jawline, tracing the lines of her neck and shoulders and she trembled again. Heat gripped her insides making her clench in the most delicious of places. She pressed her thighs together trying to supress the indisputable flood of moisture that had begun.

'_Oh god…_ _no…' _She thought trying desperately to deny the emotions coursing through her_.  
'I am not attracted to Lucius-bloody-Malfoy. I am not! The man tried to kill me! He watched Bellatrix torture me and did nothing! And when he couldn't stand to hear me screaming anymore he left the room, leaving me alone with her. It wasn't worth his time to watch a mudblood be tortured. How could I be attracted to a man like that?' _

She shook her head almost imperceptibly 'No.' She was most certainly not alright. She was a mess. Her body was fighting a war with her mind. He chuckled under his breath.

He was tormenting her, the bastard, and he knew it. He delighted in seeing her squirm. She'd expect nothing less from a former Death Eater. To him she was probably just a stupid little mudblood toy. He was enjoying jerking her chain.

And god, if that didn't make her blood boil.

She pulled her hand away and immediately felt the loss of his touch keenly. He looked at her once more, cocking an eyebrow inquisitively. She scowled at him in answer. He smirked in response. Oh yes, he was enjoying her discomfort far too much.

Thankfully the meeting concluded shortly after that and she was free to flee the room. She could feel his eyes following her as she was the first to leave the room. She hurried down the endless hallways praying that he wouldn't follow her.

Finally turning a last corner she almost ran into to the safety of her small office. Slamming the door behind her, she locked it with a charm just in case. With a shuddering breath she leaned against the heavy wooden door frame. She closed her eyes attempting to regulate her breathing. It had the opposite effect. All she could see when she closed her eyes, were clear burning grey eyes. Her eyes shot open again and with a groan she let her head hit the door behind her with a heavy 'thump' on the wood.

She took deep steadying breaths as she tried to rationalise _what the bloody hell _had just happened in that conference room.

He had touched her. She had allowed it. Just his hand touching hers, barely, but it had made her body feel on fire, all the shivers going directly to her belly making it wrench in an all too familiar longing.

After what Bellatrix had done to her it had taken her a full 9 months to allow Ron to touch and kiss her and then finally make love to her. And even now, she still had distaste for it. She tried to focus on what Ron would do to her, but most of the time, it didn't work.

She would Bellatrix's voice, her horrible laughter, her shrieking in her ears, and the fear of her time in the Malfoy dining room followed her in to her bedroom life with Ron. It had made her dislike having sex with him, and at first he'd understood.

But now, it was becoming a strain on their relationship. He would complain that it had been two years since that had happened, that it couldn't possibly affect her in the same way. But it did. It was as fresh in her mind as the day it had happened.

And now, after just a brush of his fingers on her hand, she was lusting after a married man twice her age and a former death eater who had been present during her torture.

What was wrong with her!? She had to be sick in the head to be feeling like she was.

She thought of the heated look in his eyes and she couldn't supress the shiver of want traversing her body.

This was so wrong, in so many ways. But god help her, she wanted more.

"Lucius Malfoy, what the bloody hell are you playing at?" She murmured furiously to her empty office.

~TBC~

(A/N: Yes, what are you playing at, dear Lucius? *Cheshire cat smile* I always adore comments!)


	3. Chapter 3: The things we shouldn't want

Title: All of these things

Chapter 3: The things we shouldn't want  
Parings: LM/HG, RW/HG (implied)  
Rating: M  
Disclaimer: All rights to their rightful owners. I am not making any money writing this.

Summary: It's been two years since the war finished. And Ron and Hermione are still together happy as can be. Just as they should be. Just as everyone said they would be. It was expected. They are happy together. They really are. Aren't they? Hermione find herself wondering if after all they've been through, after two years together if this is all there really is to 'Love'. Isn't that what she truly feels about Ron? But then, from the person she least expected to see again, a seed of doubt is planted. She loves Ron, but she is not in love with him. How will she react when that seed begins to grow, into a forbidden love of such magnitude she had never imagined it possible?

(A/n: HINT: Currently, the best music to listen to for this chapter would be a piece from Anna Karenina, 'Too Late' by Dario Marianelli)

_One more heated glance  
One more cold word  
One more angry sentence  
One more pained whisper  
One more forbidden longing  
One more hidden dismay  
One more stolen kiss  
One more mistake  
One more denial  
One more escape  
One more tearful plea  
Just one more time  
Kiss me_

_Just One More- Marcus Baneswolf_

Hermione hurried through the darkening streets and side alleys of Diagon Alley. She'd just come back from visiting George Weasley and Lee Jordan at Weaseley's Wizard Wheezes.

She hadn't bought anything but it had been nice to see George smile and laugh as they demonstrated some of their newer products.

She'd been there originally to place her paycheck at Gringotts and make a withdrawal for the month, but George had spotted her in the streets and they'd had tea and talked about how they're jobs were going and how Molly and Arthur were doing these days.

He asked about how the wedding plans were coming along and she told him they'd asked Professor McGonagall if they could have it at Hogwarts in the great hall, and she'd accepted more than happily. Hermione had offered money but had been flatly refused.

It wouldn't be any inconvenience to close the Great Hall for a day during the upcoming holidays. She was relieved that had been settled and she told him about the guest list and how many people they had to invite and the ridiculous amount of food they would have to provide and George offered to give her the party favours for free. At first she'd refused but he'd kept pushing saying he'd be glad to and she had eventually caved in.

George really was a sweetheart when he wanted to be. She was glad that he and Lee Jordan had become open with they're relationship to the family members and were looking every bit the happy couple.

They chatted for about an hour and then she'd excused herself saying that she should get back, seeing as Ron would be coming home that evening for supper. That had been a small lie. Ron hardly ever came home during the week before midnight.

She was sad to admit to herself that it was a relief that he did not come home. When he did, they either fought or had sex. Mediocre sex.

She sighed and wondered what it would be like when they were married. Ron hadn't seemed to notice anything was off but she felt like someone had run her over with a bulldozer. He probably had no idea what bulldozer was.

Hermione was so engrossed in her thoughts that she forgot to watch her feet and stumbled on a slippery flagstone and her ankle tilted at a painful odd angle and she heard a snap at the same time she felt it. She shut her eyes palms extended to catch her fall but it never came. Steady arms caught her and held her up against a broad chest preventing her fall.

She opened her eyes only to find herself staring into stormy grey ones.

"Miss Granger, I thought we had agreed not to make a habit of this hmm?" The smooth voice of Lucius Malfoy reminded her and she backed away abruptly escaping from his arms.

She felt her face flush at the reminder of their previous meeting in Twilfitt's and Tattings. She didn't dare look him in the face as she spoke. "No, I'm sorry Mr. Malfoy. I seem to have a lot on my mind these days. Good day to you."

She tried to walk and felt a sharp pain shoot through her ankle. She whimpered and immediately avoided putting weight on it.

'Ugh just wonderful. My ankle must be twisted.' She leaned against the wall for support and winced again. She hated performing healing charms on herself, they were almost always were too weak or only lasted briefly.

"Tut, tut, tut, not so fast, Miss Granger. You appear to be hurt," He looked down towards her foot, "Is it your ankle that is injured?"

She grimaced again at the pain and nodded.

"Yes I think so. But truly, I'll be fine, I'll just use a quick healing charm and be on my way. Nothing to trouble yourself with Mr. Malfoy." She hoped he would drop the subject.

"Nonsense, healing charms are difficult to perform on oneself. I will perform the charm for you." He held up a hand to stop her impending protest, "It's no trouble at all." Without further ado, Lucius Malfoy sank to one knee, took her calf in his hand, gently holding it with his left hand and pressing the tip of his wand to her ankle he murmured, "Musculos Reparo." She felt warmth spread through her ankle and the pain abated.

He slid his left hand up her calf to her knee deliberately as he stood once more. A tingle of pleasure shot through her and she bit back a gasp.

Damn him, how could he make her feel like this?

Pushing those thoughts away, she tentatively put weight on her ankle and sighed in relief when it no longer hurt. She looked up at him and smiled tentatively. He seemed startled by her smile, but quickly regained his composure. Her smile faltered and she felt what she imagined a mouse might feel like in front of a snake. He was looking at her with a look that could only be described as ravenous.

She was at once acutely aware that she was alone in a side alley with him.

It was late afternoon, but almost no one was outside at this time on a weekend day. It was the time between lunch time and dinner where most people would be at home readying for the night to come.

She knew she should leave and go home now.

"Thank you for that, Mr. Malfoy. I must be getting back now. Good day." She murmured before trying to leave the secluded alley way but once again his smooth honeyed voice called her back.

"Miss Granger I've been meaning to ask, how are you and Mr. Weasley getting along with your life these days? Since the war ended things must be different for the two of you." She spun back around to face him. He had no right to make such personal comments about her life.

"Yes things have changed. We are happier than ever. We are getting married in two months time. Now if you'll excuse me, Mr. Malfoy, I really must be getting back." She knew she was bordering on rude but his comment had been far out of bounds of proper conversation and had raised her hackles.

"Ah. How ill-fated." He commented, a frown furrowing his usually smooth aristocratic features. She knew he wasn't talking about her needing to leave, but rather her marriage.

Hermione's efforts at being polite abruptly ended and the angry flood gate of words opened.

"_How dare you!_" She growled furiously,_ "_Ron and I are perfectly happy. We certainly don't need your approval to be married."

"Oh but I do dare, Miss Granger." He replied teasingly. "And no, you most certainly do not. But it does not follow that I should not express my displeasure at seeing such a bright young witch as yourself bound to someone so unsuited to your needs."

"What could you possibly know about my needs? We've never even managed a civil conversation for more than 10 minutes. For you to tell me that my choice of husband is unsuited is like the cauldron calling the kettle black. What would you know about a happy marriage?" She knew that was a low blow but he had started it and she couldn't help if she had to sink to his level to fight him on equal grounds.

"You are referring to my recent divorce I presume." He spoke quietly a note of warning in his voice. She hadn't known that he'd gotten a divorce, but hid her surprise and forged on.

"That, as well as your choices during the war that resulted in grievous consequences for your ex-wife and son." As soon as she'd said the words she knew she'd crossed a line. It was his turn to glare at her, absolutely incensed.

"Do not _presume_ to speak to me of the welfare of my family Miss. Granger or you will regret it. I kept them alive at all cost. My pride, my welfare, my health, my sanity, all of it sacrificed on the altar of their happiness." It was true he had, but Hermione was still just as furious, her Gryffindor pride demanding tit for tat, fire for fire in any argument.

"It doesn't appear to have done much good has it? You've lost contact with Draco and your wife has divorced you. Money is a cold comfort. What do you have left Malfoy?" She egged him on, despite the fear and anger coursing through her veins, her chest palpitating as her breathing quickened with rage.

Something snapped in his usually calm demeanor and suddenly Hermione found herself shoved against the wall of the alley brutally, by a furious Lucius Malfoy not an inch from her face.

"My life. If you can call it that." His expression, usually so calm and smooth was replaced by a grimace and his lips pulling back from his teeth in an enraged snarl.

Their heavy breathing mingled in the freezing air and her heart rate sped up. He had her pinned by her arms to the wall, his body holding her even more firmly pressed to its cold hard surface. She knew she couldn't escape if she tried. He was easily twice as strong as she was.

His mouth was so close to hers. Her eyes fell to his lips and she bit her own lip, trying to prevent a whimper of need escaping her.

He grabbed her chin and made her look at him and he read her desire in her eyes. Without waiting for permission he pressed his lips to hers almost hard enough to bruise, his tongue flicking out against her lips seeking entrance.

Her mouth opened automatically and then his hot tongue was inside her mouth tasting her, coaxing her own tongue to reciprocate. When his hand slid down her ribcage to the small of her back pressing their bodies even closer, she gasped against his mouth and kissed him back, moving her mouth tentatively against his.

Her body felt like someone had turned on a blazing fire within her, burning from the inside. She clung to his back, as though he were the only thing in the world that could prevent her from turning to ashes as she burned.

_'Oh god, what am I doing?' _She thought before becoming incapable of thought as he tilted his head at an angle to kiss her even more deeply.

He groaned into her mouth and the kiss grew ever more passionate. He released her arms in favour of holding her waist pulling them closer pressing their bodies deliciously against one another. Her hands slid around his neck of their own accord and held him to her. She was sure her knickers were soaked, the flood of heat between her thighs as his tongue tangled with hers reaffirming the fact.

He kissed her deeply, masterfully, carefully but still demanding she reciprocate to his kiss.

His tongue glided against her top lip and then tugged on her lower lip with his teeth teasingly before releasing the tender flesh and plundering her mouth once again. When he pulled away at last it was only to lean down and press hot kisses against the column of her neck down to the slope of her shoulder.

"Oh god!" She gasped, "Please!" She didn't know if she was begging him to stop or if she was begging him for more.

This couldn't go on she had to stop him.

"Please—No— _Lucius_, _oh…_" Hermione struggled to form a sentence, his mouth and tongue against her neck gliding up to the shell of her ear, proving to be quite an impediment to her speech.

She heard and felt him gasp as she said his name for the first time.

He recaptured her mouth for a moment longer before pulling back and looking into her glassy pleasure filled eyes.

"You taste exquisite."

She whimpered as his words sent shots of pleasure straight to her core as he leaned in to kiss her once more. But before he could, a sudden loud noise made them turn their heads in the direction it came from.

A door in the back alley creaked open and a man came out saw them and yelled, "Oi What the bloody 'Ell? I'll not have no bleedin' shaggin' in the back o' this place. I'm callin' the Auror's!" and with that he went back inside to make good on his promise.

Hermione felt like someone had just dumped a bucket of ice water on her and put out the fire inside of her.

She managed to get out of his arms and backed away from him, a look similar to shell shock on her face. She was aghast at what she had just been doing with him. He had kissed her and she had kissed him back, desperately like she wanted to devour him whole. What in god's name had they just done?

"I shouldn't have done that." She heard her own voice as though it were coming from far away, like she was at the bottom of a well, or a cave. "It was wrong. I shouldn't have— It was a mistake. We shouldn't have done that." She continued, her voice shaking.

She felt sick to her stomach, at the thought that she had just betrayed Ron after all they had been through. And for what? A good snogging? With a former Death Eater? What the bloody hell was wrong with her?

"That was no mistake." He spoke with a firm arrogant certainty. "That is what you need Miss Granger. And you and I both know, Ronald Weasley will never give you that." The smoldering look in his eyes reminded her of a thunderstorm about to begin.

"But I love him." She said the words desperately like repeating a mantra, like she was trying to convince herself more than him.

"Do you really?" He asked clearly disbelieving, "Or is something missing?" She shook her head trying to deny the truth in his words, to herself and to him but it was there, she knew he was right. Something was missing. There was love but no spark, no warmth, nothing like the raging inferno she felt when Lucius had kissed her. And she needed that. She would never be truly happy or at peace without it.

"I am correct in my assumption then." He surmised arrogantly when she continued to be silent.

Remembering the shop owner's words of warning she said, "We have to go."

She turned away from him and left running down the street out towards the Leaky Cauldron exit. She knew he wouldn't follow her. He had gotten what he wanted.

Her mind was reeling with the horrible knowledge that if the shop owner hadn't interrupted them she would have let him do anything—_anything_— to her right then and there.

She felt the first beginnings of a sob of dismay rise from her chest and burst from her lips just as she entered the floo chimney. She took a few deep breaths to prevent herself from ending up god knows where and stated the address of their flat as clearly as she could.

She arrived at her empty flat and all the lights were turned off. She was grateful for the darkness of it.

She felt miserable, confused, lost. Like she had been on a life raft after the war had ended and now she was stuck in a hurricane of emotions and the waves just got bigger and bigger as the storm raged around in her mind.

She sat in and arm chair by the fire place and curled up on it with her knees up to her chest.

She let the tears come then. The tears of old pain and self-hatred and resentment towards herself and Lucius Malfoy. Sobs wracked her body, pushing their way from the depths of her chest, regret and anger mingling in their escape. When the sobbing had past she was left with silent tears gliding down her cheeks only to land on her cardigan. She covered her face in her arms and cried quietly, until she had no more tears.

When her back began to cramp from being in that position for so long, she stood slowly and went and took a cold shower. By the time she got out her teeth were chattering.

She made herself a cup of Earl Grey, with a wedge of lemon on the side, the scent of citrus soothing to her. It reminded her of pale blond hair and a solid reassuring chest covered in expensive black fabric, strong steady arms and steely grey eyes.

She jerked herself out of those memories and scolded herself by telling herself it was stupid to think of him, when surely all he would ever see her as was a good shagging. She dumped the tea in the sink and after a quick bit of peanut butter and jelly on toast and a No-Dreams sleeping potion she crashed into bed more tears sliding down her cheeks before finally letting herself fall into the sleep of the dead.

~*^*~

The next morning when she arrived at the ministry, Phillida Corntail, Irving Rathmoor's secretary, told her she had a package on her desk.

There was a letter attached to a rectangular brown paper package. She opened the letter hoping she was wrong about who it was from.

The note simply read, "I thought you might enjoy this. It might prove educational to a muggle-born." It was signed, 'LM'.

Reading the title, Hermione felt her face turn an embarrassing shade of pink, and brought an hand up to feel the warmth in her cheek.

The book was entitled, "Sex A History and it's relation to Magic." She had heard about this book once while at Hogwarts. It was thought to be the bible of wizard intercourse and could make any sexual encounter mind-blowing if the techniques in the book were applied properly. It also just happened to be a first edition extremely rare copy of the book.

She put the book down and unable to look at the embarrassing title any longer, and hid it under a pile of documents. Still, her thirst for knowledge had been peeked and she knew she would be pulling it out tonight and reading it once Ron was asleep.

Thinking of Ron made Hermione wince. What was she doing? Accepting a sexual book and giggling like a happy school girl with a crush on someone she should not have one on.

She felt ridiculous and ashamed at her own behaviour. Ron was a good guy and he deserved better from her. She resolved to send to book back with a note saying, "I can't accept this. Please don't contact me at work again." She signed it 'HG' and sent it back via a Ministry owl.

Later that day she received a reply, alone with the book back on her desk. The reply read,

"Miss Granger you disappoint me. Have I shocked your puritanical muggle-born sensibilities? Surely you are not a prude. Do not insult me by refuse my gift. I shall see you in a few days' time, in any case. Till then, yours, LM""

Hermione read the letter five times before fully registering his full meaning. He would see her in a few days and this time on purpose. She felt a wave of panic overtake her and she had a sudden urge to go over to Malfoy Manor and confront the arrogant bastard. But when she thought of setting foot in that house again, she immediately felt fear grip her heart and squeeze. The thought of being in _that room_ again made her feel physically sick.

Resigned she picked up the book and slid it into her purse. 'I will not read it. I will not read it. I will not read it.' She repeated it to herself throughout the day but the itch to read it was near undeniable. Her curiosity was getting the better of her. She knew she would be reading it that night despite her self-imposed denial.

She only prayed it wasn't illustrated as well as descriptive.

_'Lucius Malfoy why are you doing this to me? Me of all people?'_ She thought to herself despondently, as she covered her face with her hands, running her fingers through her hair frustrated. What was she going to do about this situation with Lucius Malfoy?

When she thought about their kiss in that alley way just yesterday she felt an unmistakable heat bloom in her belly and she knew she wanted to do it again. And again and again. She groaned becoming even more frustrated.

She wondered when they would meet again. He had not been specific. She supposed she would have to wait and find out. With that, she dove back into her work and tried her best not to think of a certain blonde, grey eyed devilishly handsome arrogant pureblood for the rest of the day without much success.

~TBC~

(A/n: Hmm, I think Hermione doesn't see just how much Lucius has changed. Naughty Lucius giving her a book on sexual magic! Reviews are love. Oh P.S I need a Beta! Anyone interested? PM me! )


	4. Chapter 4: The things you say

Title: All of these things  
Chapter 4: The things we run away from  
Parings: LM/HG, RW/HG (implied)  
Rating: M  
Disclaimer: All rights to their rightful owners. I am not making any money writing this.  
Summary: It's been two years since the war finished. And Ron and Hermione are still together happy as can be. Just as they should be. Just as everyone said they would be. It was expected. They are happy together. They really are. Aren't they? Hermione find herself wondering if after all they've been through, after two years together if this is all there really is to 'Love'. Isn't that what she truly feels about Ron? But then, from the person she least expected to see again, a seed of doubt is planted. She loves Ron, but she is not in love with him. How will she react when that seed begins to grow, into a forbidden love of such magnitude she had never imagined it possible?

_Here I stand  
Helpless and left for dead  
Trembling,  
Feeling your cold grey eyes  
Stealing the light of mine  
Close my eyes  
So many days go by  
Easy to find what's wrong  
Harder to find what's right  
I believe in you  
I can show that I see right through  
All your empty lies  
I won't stay long  
In this world so wrong  
Say goodbye  
As I dance with the Devil tonight  
I don't dare look at him in the eye  
As I dance with the Devil tonight_

Dance with the Devil- Breaking Benjamin

_-2 days later-_

"Aren't you ready yet? We'll be late." Ron called irritably from the bedroom. Hermione sighed as she placed her earring in her earlobe and answered, "Yes, I'm coming. Just a second Ron." She looked into the mirror one last time, pushing a wisp of rebellious hair behind her ear.

Her dress was navy blue chiffon and silk affair that had intricate vintage beading along the bodice. The small straps of the dress allowed her to show off her bare shoulders and pale smooth skin. Her hair was pinned up elegantly at her nape held there by pins of solid silver given to her by her grandmother.

She fiddled with the engagement ring on her finger, wondering if she should wear it tonight. It was too big and didn't fit comfortably. In the end, she kept it on. Not for her own pleasure but to avoid a quarrel with Ron over her not wanting to wear the damn thing in public.

She turned her head from side to side watching the light glint off her onyx tear drop earrings. A dab of her favourite Valentino perfume on her neck and wrists and she was ready.

"'Mione, I know you don't want to go, neither do I! But we have to, now c'mon the car's waiting." Ron called to her once more. She sighed again more heavily before turning and exiting the bathroom reluctantly.

She rolled her eyes at her stressed out boyfriend and headed down the stairs and outside their London flat, to the black town car that had been arranged to take them to the Minister of Magic's residential manor. There would be press after all and it wouldn't do, not to arrive in style.

Ron slid into the leather seat and grumbled, "I thought we'd never leave." He looked at the chauffer and said, "Women eh? Take forever to get ready." The chauffer glanced at Hermione and wisely did not reply.

The car began moving and Hermione did her best to tune out the incessant droning of Ron talking to her about all the people they would meeting tonight and the latest Quidditch match.

This was going to be a long night indeed.

~*^*~

They arrived at the Minister's mansion and were immediately greeted with the news cameras flashes and video camera's shoved in their faces.

The security guards instantly pushed them away and Hermione saw a similar car approach and its occupants face the same gauntlet as they had upon arriving.

From the car immerged a disgruntled Harry and a very un-impressed Ginny.

The respective couples acknowledged each other and both groups headed into the main hall, and then were ushered into an old fashioned ball room. Harry and Ginny came over and greeted them and they chatted for a while, all of them wishing it was over with already.

There were a surprisingly large number of people at the party. There were couples dancing gracefully on the dance floor to the flowing music of a waltz.

She gazed longing at the dancers, wishing she could join them. Dancing had always been something she loved to do. But Ron hated it. And that was where the discussion ended. She couldn't remember the last time she'd danced to a proper waltz.

She tuned out the conversation going on around her and observed the dance floor for a while longer. A flash of white blonde hair caught her attention and she inhaled sharply. No, it couldn't be, oh please, not tonight, of all nights, she thought desperately, hoping against hope.

But then, she saw him again, much more clearly this time. She saw him notice her looking and his trade mark smirk played on his lips. He looked very fine tonight. Formal black robes, and well fitted chemise, gave him an elegant and refined look. He strode through the crowd, his aim very clear. She couldn't let him reach her. Not here, not with Ron so close. He'd know, he would see. She couldn't allow that.

Hermione absent minded told Ron, she was going to go powder her nose and quickly headed off in the opposite direction of Lucius Malfoy.

She found a secluded balcony and quickly headed out onto it. It was cold, but she found the freezing air refreshing and it cleared her head. The balcony was dimly lit with enchanted candles and it led down towards the gardens of the manor.

She could hear the laughter and the music inside and dimly wondered what it would be like to be a part of the oblivious group of people laughing and dancing, who seemed to have forgotten the horrors of the war so quickly and easily.

Hermione shivered in the cold air and rubbed her arms in an attempt to bring heat back to her limbs.

She closed her eyes and inhaled the fall air, relishing the smell of autumn and coming winter. A sudden different scent caught her attention, citrus, fresh ginger, cloves and what she thought might be sandalwood. It was a smell that she associated distinctly with the man who wore it. The unmistakeable scent of a certain, familiar, expensive cologne.

"Aren't you cold Miss Granger?" Drawled the arrogance laden voice of Lucius Malfoy. She spun around to confront him. He stood before her, bold as brass, his blonde tresses combed back, his face cleanly shaven, and his piercing grey eyes searching her own visage.

Why could he not simply leave her alone? Didn't he see that she wanted to be alone?

"Why should that be any of your concern Mr. Malfoy?" She replied coldly before turning back away from him towards the gardens.

That was a mistake.

He drew closer to her with two quick paces forward and suddenly his hands were on the tops of her arms and his mouth at her ear, "Don't turn away from me, when I am speaking to you witch." He growled low and menacing and she gasped as his mouth barely brushed the shell of her ear.

He ran one hand along her left arm, from wrist to shoulder, raising gooseflesh as his hand left a trail of fire along her skin.

"You see? You are cold after all. What silly little muggle-born to come out here, alone, without a coat." He murmured teasingly, with a trace of false concern. "We shall have to remedy that situation, won't we Miss Granger?"

Hermione finally managed to pull herself to her senses and tried to escape the cage of his arms, but to no avail. He held her firmly and only tightened his grip on her when he felt her struggle.

"Leave me be! Why can't you just leave me be?!" She cried, her eyes filling with hot, angry, confused tears.

"Now where would be the fun in that Miss Granger?" He growled intimidatingly.

"Fun?" She clenched her teeth trying to prevent the tears from falling and herself from saying the next words but failed. "Is that what I am to you? A bit of fun? Because I assure you Mr. Malfoy, you are the only one who is enjoying this situation." She snarled, flinging the words at him like daggers.

"Oh I think we both know that isn't true." He purred, his tone clearly amused at her denial.

Her face was suffused with heat as she remembered the taste of his mouth when he had kissed her that day in Diagon alley. She'd thought of little else since then.

She twisted and pushed violently at him and this time she managed to pull herself out of his strong grasp in one swift angry motion.

"How _dare _you." She growled absolutely incensed by this man's arrogance and disregard for her. "How dare you make such assumptions about me? You who have caused me and my loved ones so much pain, how dare you make me feel this way—"

"And what way would that be Miss Granger?" He sliced across her little diatribe his smooth dulcet tones infuriating her more. "Tell me, what do I make you feel?" he purred, his voice low and sensual as if talking to a lover.

"Furious." Her voice trembled, despite her best efforts at self-control, "You bring back memories that should remain buried." She replied trying to convince herself more than him. He could easily see through the lie.

"Is that how I make you feel Miss Granger? Truly?" He scoffed at her.

"You are the most arrogant, infuriating, insufferable, pretentious, bastard I've ever had the bad luck to meet."

At that, Lucius Malfoy laughed. It was a deep menacing sound, a throaty chuckle emerging from low in his chest. The sound of it sent chills down her spine and Hermione froze glaring at the blonde man.

"Oh Miss Granger, what ever shall I do with you? Should I take you over my knee for speaking to me like that?" Hermione gapped at him unable to believe she had heard him correctly. Had he really just said— She shivered against the sudden cold.

A particularly freezing gust of wind had swept by and Hermione wrapped her arms around herself trying to keep the cold at bay, with little effect.

Hermione could practically see the idea forming in Lucius's sparkling grey eyes.

"You're still cold." He surmised, watching her as she shivered against the freezing night air.

Without further ado, he wrapped a possessive hand around her waist making her gasp and murmured, "Let's do something about that." She frowned at him, what did he mean by that?

"Dance with me." And to the sound of the current waltz that had just begun playing he tugged her away from the balcony back through the open door and onto the ballroom's dance floor. She made a startled sound to find herself so suddenly in the center of the party.

Ignoring the other party guest's curious looks and disbelieving gasps, he pulled her into the dance, beginning by casually twirling her as the rest of the couples began to move to the waltz. He stepped forward and she automatically followed his direction by stepping back.

Hermione gasped, and spluttered "I— Mr. Malfoy this is highly in-appropriate, If Ron sees me with you he'll—I can't possibly be expected to—" she tried to struggle against him but he simply ignored her and pulled her body closer to his. If Ron saw them dancing together like this he would do something they would all live to regret.

"Nonsense Miss Granger, we must warm you up, unless you have a better suggestion. I'm sure you could think of something." He smirked making it clear what he was implying. "Maybe a repeat of our little encounter in Diagon Alley?" She flushed scarlet and her eyes widened. If anyone heard him, or if anyone found out what had happened she would be ruined. A pariah, from her friends and family.

Hermione shook her head 'No' and he cocked an eyebrow as if to say, 'Well then?' and he began leading her once more through the steps of an intricate Viennese Waltz.

Hermione allowed him to lead her although she didn't need much guidance, she knew this dance. Professor McGonagall had taught them how to dance for the Yule ball in fourth year.

It felt like a life time ago since she'd danced like this. Well, no, that wasn't quite true.

She'd never danced like this.

Lucius was a master at leading her gracefully through the movements.

Still she had trouble focusing on the steps; the feeling of apprehension at what others might think was becoming overbearing. She, one of the Golden trio, dancing with a former Death Eater. The mere thought of it was ludicrous and yet here they were.

She was acutely aware that although all eyes were on them, his eyes were only on her.

She inhaled his scent, allowing it to make her head spin. His sensual voice, the beautiful music, his intoxicating smell, his strong, gentle hands, the feel of his breath against her throat… It was completely and utterly overwhelming.

His voice pulled her back to the present.

"I am remiss in my duties as a man." Lucius murmured sardonically just loud enough for her alone to hear, as his eyes wracked over the exposed skin at her shoulders and chest.

"How so?" She couldn't resist asking.

"I have not yet told you." He replied teasingly.

"Told me what?" She asked her breathing becoming ragged.

"You look exquisite this evening." He breathed into the crook of her neck. She suppressed shiver of want.

His sincerity was transparent in the tone of his voice.

His uncharacteristic compliment took what little breath she had left, away. She felt her cheeks suffused with warmth.

"Why Miss Granger, you blush. I am succeeding in warming you up then." It was not a question, it was an outright arrogant assumption and she could not deny the truth of it, no matter how much she wished he were wrong. Why did he always have to be right? Even when it felt so wrong it was still right. He was still _right._

It was true the dancing was warming her up. The steps of the dance were precise and elegant, they demanded mastery and awareness of one's body. The dance was meant to create a series of images, from hands extended perfectly to wrists intertwined, their fingers splayed at just such an angle to make the motion beautiful.

They circled each other, instead of changing partners as would have been customary during the dance. Then the paces began again and she backed away, him following her, then he turned her so her back was pressed to his chest, and her arms extended up horizontally to give the impression of wings as they beat up and down, his hands guiding her arms in the movement.

He lifted her arms above her head and joined their hands while she ducked under them and spun around into the steps once more. She spun away, he held onto her left wrist pulling her back to him and they twined wrists once again following the steps.

She saw dared to look up at his face for the first time since the dance began and nearly faltered in the paces at the ravenous look she saw there in his crystal grey eyes.

Her cheeks grew flushed, and she felt warmth spreading throughout her limbs. His smell, his hands, his heat, she felt overwhelmed by his presence alone. Still they moved in the circular motion of the steps. Their movements became perfectly in sync, flowing together and away languidly through the waltz.

"You dance well." She murmured, slightly breathless, and vaguely impressed.

"Are you surprised?" He queried arrogantly, the corners of his mouth quirking up in the semblance of a smile.

"No." She retorted curtly. He chuckled at her short reply.

A moment more of the waltz steps and he dipped her backwards for a moment before bringing her back pressing their bodies together. Hermione felt something very large and remarkably hard at the juncture between Lucius' legs and prayed she was wrong in its identification.

A soft groan barely audible, drawn from him at the contact eliminated all remaining hope that she had been mistaken.

The sound drew a gasp from her and she felt an undeniable flood in between her own legs.

'_Oh god, help me.'_ She though desperately. She felt her own arousal flare violently and send a heated shiver down her spine.

The steps of the dance sped up and so did their movements. She heard the murmurs of the people around her distinctly then, 'Isn't that Hermione Granger dancing with Lucius Malfoy?' 'What on earth would she be dancing with him for? Did he force her?' 'I wonder what her fiancé feels about them dancing?' All the voices blurring together into a stream of disapproving murmurs and disbelieving whispers.

All eyes were on them.

Lucius either didn't notice, or didn't care. Hermione did her utmost not to appear self-conscious. People would always talk. It couldn't be helped.

"Did you read the book I gave you?" Lucius asked a barely concealed smirk on his mouth.

"Yes." She replied curtly but honestly. She knew he would see through a lie.

"Was it not to your liking?" He asked obviously trying to get a reaction out of her.

"It was inappropriate." She retorted, trying to fight the blush once again appearing on her cheeks.

"It is supposed to stimulate the mind, generate ideas of how to bring oneself and their partner pleasure… by any means necessary." Lucius practically purred in her ear.

'By any means necessary indeed,' thought Hermione. The book had been extreme to say the least. It involved a step by step process of discovering just how far one person was willing to go, in pain, in pleasure and in subservience, all of it applied and guided and aided with magic. It had been interesting but shocking to say the least.

She and Ron hadn't even moved out of missionary. Not for any reticence on her part, but because he claimed it was 'the only proper position for intercourse' in his own words.

He could be so obtuse and narrow minded at times. She longed for someone more diverse and more mature. Someone who could talk to her about present day issues as well as past ones and challenge her mind while intriguing her at the same time. she longed for an enigma. 'Like Lucius,' the thought crept up on her, involuntary but truthful.

The steps led them twirling through the throng of other dancers to the center of the ballroom and as the crescendo of the waltz resounded he lifted her up in the air, holding her there for a moment.

She felt she knew in that instant that she was doing something very dangerous, and something she wanted dangerously. The metaphor had become painfully clear to her. If he dropped her, she would fall from her own society and from good grace as a decent person. As he lowered her slowly, he brought her so close to him, she feared he might kiss her then and there in front of everyone. But he set her down not a moment later and the dance continued towards its finish.

A few more steps and the final pose of entwining hands and the waltz finally ended.

It pained her to admit it, but she was indeed much warmer now than before. Her chest was rising up and down quickly from the exertion and she felt his eyes roam her body, mentally undressing her, staring blatantly at her chest and the rest of her, lingering on her hips and slim waist then up to her chest and then her mouth for a long moment. She remembered the taste of him, citrus and ginger and cloves, oh how she wanted to taste it again.

"Mr. Malfoy. I do believe you're starring." She breathed, uncertain of what else to say. He was staring, him and every other person in the room.

"Bravo. As observant as always Miss Granger." He leaned into her closer, she could feel his hot breath and smell his cologne, citrus, cloves, ginger and sandalwood mixed into an enticing perfume, all the while his smoldering grey gaze locked to her own lost brown eyes. His mouth was mere inch from her own and she held her breath.

Ron came out of the crowd towards her said, "Blimey, I've been searching everywhere for you 'Mione!" And then he noticed Malfoy with his hand still at her waist and exclaimed, "What the bloody hell were you dancing with him for?" He indicated Lucius with a rude jerk of his chin.

"I felt a dance between past enemies might further highlight the fact that we are no longer at war, and that reconciliation has been made possible." Malfoy replied coldly. "Miss Granger happened to have the same thought and agreed to dance with me." He sneered derisively at Ron. Turning to face her again her murmured, "I will bid you good evening Miss Granger. Till we meet again." He said the last part clearly only to her. "Mr. Malfoy." She managed to say in way of goodbye. She was still out of breath from the dance.

Lucius quickly headed for the crowd which parted before him, leaving the disgruntled red head and Hermione alone together. She suddenly felt very cold, but it had nothing to do with the weather.

"Let's go home." Ron said and took her wrist to lead her towards the exit. She pulled her wrist away and glared at him warningly, but followed him towards the exit none the less. She needed to get away from all the people starring and murmuring as they looked at her.

It was overwhelming to know she was the center of their conversation because of that dance. Hermione took a deep breath as she walked, trying to control the raging emotions within her.

What was Malfoy's game? Was it a game? Why her? Why now?

All her senses railed at her that this was insane. What was she doing dancing with a former Death Eater, a man who'd tried to kill her before? A man who was recently divorced, twice her age and a known pureblood extremist? A man who exuded sensuality and confidence, a man, who could make her scream either in anger or in lust she wasn't sure anymore.

But she couldn't deny it any longer. She was desperately attracted to Lucius Malfoy.

They made their excuses citing Hermione's headache as their reason for leaving so early.

As soon as they had finally said goodbye to Harry and Ginny, they exited the building. They hadn't wanted to wait for the car, so they decided to apparate back to their flat.

As soon as they arrived, Ron, who had been remarkably quiet up till then rounded on her, suddenly furious.

"What the bloody hell was that Hermione? You and that old slime-ball Malfoy— how could you?" She glared at him, letting him know what she thought of his vulgarity.

"I believe it's called dancing Ronald." She retorted, not at all impressed by this little outburst.

"He tried to kill us Hermione. He was there while you were tortured! Does all of that suddenly mean nothing to you?"

"Ronald Weasley, until such a time as you have been tortured to the point where you wished you were _dead_, you will. Hold. Your. Tongue." She spat the words at him like venom.

"But 'Mione I—" He appeared completely shocked by her outburst.

"What Ron? You didn't like that I danced with him so automatically I have to bend to your every wish and whim? It was just a dance. The war is over and it has been over for two years. Who I dance with is my prerogative."

Ron seemed at a loss at what to do with a fuming Hermione in front of him. He gapped at her, unsure what more there was to say, she was right after all and he would never apologise without someone there to prompt him into it, merlin forbid he think of apologising himself. Hermione became bored of watching him gawking at her like she'd suddenly grown three heads.

"I'll be sleeping in the guest room tonight. Good night Ronald." She turned on her heel and left him standing in the entrance of their flat.

Hermione quickly dispelled her clothing and undid her hair with a few flicks of her wand, before jumping in the shower, not waiting for it to become warm. A freezing cold shower was exactly what she needed at the moment.

Whether because of Lucius Malfoy's advances, or her frustration at Ron's narrow mindedness she wasn't sure. Perhaps both in equal amounts.

Once she was finished she made sure all traces of makeup were removed and pulling on her comfortable sleeping briefs, a tank top and her silk kimono over robe, before finally crawling under the covers and falling into a fitful sleep.

~TBC~

(A/n: Well, well. Lucius you devilishly sexy bastard. And he can dance. Damn. Hermione is so done for. Oh, to be Hermione and dance with Lucius Malfoy looking at you like he wants to eat you alive. Reviews would be very welcome. Keep the author happy and there will be more of—well. More. *Evil smirk*, I know what you're all waiting for. I'll get there. The more reviews I get, the 'more' I feel like writing if you get my drift…)


	5. Chapter 5: The things we need to know

**Title:** All of these things  
**Chapter 5**: Things we need to know  
**Parings**: LM/HG, RW/HG (implied)  
**Rating:** M  
**Disclaimer:** All rights to their rightful owners. I am not making any money writing this.  
**Summary:** It's been two years since the war finished. And Ron and Hermione are still together happy as can be. Just as they should be. Just as everyone said they would be. It was expected. They are happy together. They really are. Aren't they? Hermione find herself wondering if after all they've been through, after two years together if this is all there really is to 'Love'. Isn't that what she truly feels about Ron? But then, from the person she least expected to see again, a seed of doubt is planted. She loves Ron, but she is not in love with him. How will she react when that seed begins to grow, into a forbidden love of such magnitude she had never imagined it possible?

(**A/n:** Thank you to everyone who has been reviewing and following/ faving this story! Enjoy!)

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__

_  
Twisted this feeling walked out of shape  
So tired of revealing the moves that I make  
And I know, yes I know, but is this real?  
And I know, yes I know, but is this real?  
Feeling inconstant could drive me insane  
Flesh to blood to bone to love  
Twisted_

_Twisted – Lisa Hall_

It was Wednesday on her lunch hour when Hermione pushed through the door of Flourish and Blotts, and the door chimed her arrival. The shop keeper smiled at her in welcome. They knew her well, from her school days and now after the war.

"Looking for anything specific Miss Hermione?" inquired Jonathan Blotts, the sole owner of Flourish and Blotts since his wife, Selene Flourish had been killed in the war two years ago.

"Yes, actually Mr. Blotts, I'm looking for something for work. I find I'm a bit rusty on my Veela histories and knowledge of their society all around. It's been a mad house at the ministry these last few weeks with the Centaurs fighting for their land rights and the Veela acting up, fighting for the right to marry wizards again."

"I'm afraid miss that you won't find much here on Veela history. They keep their histories very closely guarded. We have a few tomes on their physical attributes but other than that, I'm afraid you may have to look elsewhere." Hermione's eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. In all the years she'd been coming here, never, not once had she been told they did not have something concerning a certain subject.

"Yes, I know it's a first for me as well, telling a customer we don't have the book they are looking for." Mr. Blotts sighed and continued, "Selene was the one who knew where to find all the rare books at good prices. But since she's –" he paused and took a deep breath. "I simply haven't had the heart to look for more rare titles without her. It was her passion. Do forgive the inconvenience Miss Hermione."

"There is nothing to forgive. I am so terribly sorry for you loss Mr. Blotts." Hermione told him with feeling. She knew Selene Flourish had died in one of the raids on Diagon Alley during the war.

With a watery smile, Mr. Blotts said, "Well then I'll show you where to find the books on the Veela's that we do have." Hermione smiled at him kindly and followed him when he headed down one of the many hundreds of aisles and aisles of book shelves

Once he'd shown her where the books where, he left her to her reading and told her to call if she needed anything. In truth, they really had almost nothing on the Veela's. There were two books on them in the all of Flourish and Blotts.

Hermione sat down in an armchair and read through the first one, adding notes to pages she found of interest, but truthfully what she needed to know was not what they looked like but what their society dictated as far as romance and relationships were concerned.

The ministry was worried that the Veela wouldn't obey the proper rules of conduct and laws concerning marriage contracts due to their different society.

It was Hermione's job to find out whether or not that was the case. But seeing as the Veela did not want to interact with the Ministry concerning their private lives Hermione was left to do what little research she could. She'd scoured the Ministry records, unearthing almost nothing.

This book had absolutely nothing at all on the subject of their society protocol. Only that it was possible for wizards and Veela to have children who would then be half Veela. It did not elaborate whether the child would have Veela attributes or powers, like turning into dangerous bird-like creatures when angry, or throwing fire with their bare hands or doing wandless elemental magic.

It also said that the majority of Veela were pale blonde and ethereal in their beauty. To dance with a Veela or someone of Veela blood was said to be a sensual and hypnotic experience. Veela were said to dance only with those they were sexually compatible with. While dancing they would look into your eyes and make you wish you never had to look away.

It did say however that no full blooded male Veela existed but it was possible to have a half Veela male. So how on earth did Veela's reproduce within their society?

Hermione spent another hour going through the pages of the book over and over, until finally she slammed the book shut out of frustration.

She stood to place it back in the proper space on the shelf but found it was rather high up and that she was having difficulty reaching it.

"Here, let me help you." The voice of Lucius Malfoy murmured from behind her, and before she could react a steadying arm came around her waist and a pale hand caught the book out of her hand and placed it on the shelf with ease.

She jumped at the unexpected touch and turned around to face the man who'd helped her.

"Miss Granger, we meet again." He had both hands on the book shelves at her sides preventing her from moving away from him. He had effectively pinned her to the shelf behind her.

"The last time I met you in Flourish and Blotts you gave my best friend a book that almost got her killed." Hermione deadpanned. Lucius didn't even flinch and simply took it in stride.

"Always intent on bring up the past of others." He sighed with mock sorrow.

"No. Just yours." She glared up at the blonde man blocking her way. Her breath was coming a little quicker than it should, negating the effect of her glare.

Why did he have to stand so close to her?

"Interesting reading choice." He looked up at the title of the book he'd just replaced, "Veela and their characteristics. But from your expression, I gather altogether unsatisfactory."

She rolled her eyes at him and it was his turn to glare at her. "Do not roll your eyes at me. Ever. Or I will take you over my knee regardless of where we are."

"You cannot possibly be serious. Mr. Malfoy, I am not your property, nor am I your l-lover." She stuttered over the last word but continued nonetheless. This couldn't go on. It would only lead to  
trouble for both of them. "I am engaged to a man I love and will be married at the end of next month. So please, I ask that you stop making such sexual references and acting as though I had done anything to incite these advances—"

"Oh my dear, if I believed for one instant that you truly wished me to stop, I would. As it is, you are an awful liar." He smirked entirely too pleased with himself. The arrogance of this man never stopped staggering her with its enormity.

"I am not your 'dear' and I am not a liar." Hermione snarled up at him immediately incensed. She was many things but a liar she was not. She opened her mouth to reply, another biting retort on the tip of her tongue, but he pressed a finger to her lips, preventing her.

"Tut, tut, tut, Miss Granger, I believe we've had quite enough of your self-denials for one day."

With that he leaned forward and his hands were at her waist pulling her flush against his firm chest. She gasped and tried to push him away with her hands on his chest but if anything it seemed to make him only more intent.

He pressed her against the book shelf and tilted his head and moved in even closer.

He was barely an inch away from her face when she did indeed tell a lie.

"No." She barely managed to form the word, her face flushed and her breathing coming in short gasps.

He stopped and looked her in the eyes. He could easily read her desire in her eyes and face. She was sure he would ignore her request that he not kiss her, and do as he pleased.

He continued to lean in but instead of kissing her on the lips, he placed a soft kiss on her cheek. It was so gentle and tender, it was almost reverent. Like the kiss one might place on a sleeping child hoping not to wake them.

The feel of his lips so close to her own sent a fiery tendril of desire to her belly and she sighed enjoying the feel of his lips, so soft on her skin. The feeling made her tremble in his arms.

He clearly felt her reaction and pulled away to look into her eyes with barely veiled want.

Then with great effort, he pulled away from her, and asked, "Is there anything else I can help you with?"

He hadn't kissed her. She could hardly believe it. He had stopped whens she'd asked him to.

Hermione swallowed hard and licked her lips before nodding 'yes'. "I can't quite reach the book next to the one you placed back."

"Veela and their physiology the second tome. Miss Granger, what exactly are you hoping to discover about Veela's that you don't already know?"

"I am looking for information about their marital rituals and society rules and laws concerning it. The Veela have petitioned the Ministry yet again for the right to marry Wizards. As you know that right was revoked during the war as punishment for their 'impure' blood practices by the pureblood extremist government."

He lifted an eyebrow as if to say, 'And you think I had something to do with it?'

Hermione ignored his pointed eyebrow and unspoken question, and continued, "But the government has changed, the war is over and now once again they must ask for permission to be married to wizards. It's caused a lot of trouble at the ministry seeing as no one can find any information as to whether a Veela-wizard couple would obey the laws of the ministry or the laws of Veela culture. The ministry agreed to grant them the licences back if the ministry found evidence that they obeyed marital laws and customs of the wizarding world and their offspring as well. The Veela accepted these terms saying that they always have but refuse to allow the Ministry to pry into the private lives of their people to prove the fact. So now, it's my job to find the proof that they will follow the laws and have done so in the past."

"My, my, what a daunting task. The Veela are extremely private and keep their histories and social information well-guarded. To find a book concerning their marital habits would be most difficult." She sighed frustrated that even he would know that it was a next to impossible task to accomplish. "But, fortunately for you, Miss Granger, I am in possession of a certain rare tome of histories concerning Veela and wizard relationships. My library is quite extensive as I'm sure you know."

Hermione nodded. He would be the one to have something like that. His library at Malfoy manor was legendary for its wide historic scope. And the fact that it was 300 hundred years old only added to its fame.

"I need to know more about the way Veela and wizard marriages work. And I need to know how their union affects the abilities children born." She said the words without thought and almost regretted saying them at all until Lucius spoke again.

"Yes you do. In my library at Malfoy Manor, I have many books on the subject." He repeated inanely.

Hermione could tell he was being truthful, but she knew he wouldn't do all this out of the goodness of his heart.

"What do you want in exchange?"

"Miss Granger you wound me! To think I would ever ask for something in return, I am hurt!" he cried with mock indignation. But he couldn't hide his pretentious grin.

"Cut the act Malfoy. Tell me what you want in return."

His smile faded and he gripped her arms and pressed her back once again to the bookshelves pushing their bodies deliciously close.

He leaned down, and murmured into her ear, "I want what you want my dear. I want you to surrender yourself to me completely."

Hermione's eyes widened in panic and she pushed him away with real fear in her voice now.  
"Please don't ask that of me! I can't, I just can't!" She struggled against his grip, "Let me go!" Her eyes filled with tears caused by the old memories, and because of what Bellatrix had taken from her. The tears spilled over and she still pushed him away but he held her.

He held her gently but firmly and she still tried to get away but he held her against his chest until she stopped fighting. Once she had stopped fighting, her body was shaking with tears. A small sob escaped her and she covered her mouth with her own hand. She knew he saw the tears streak her face and fall to his robes and the ground. Her pain suddenly became extremely real and very clear to him. She had suffered more than he knew.

Lucius said nothing, he just continued to hold her. He soothed her by petting her hair, and then gently rubbing her back. His gestures were a bit uncertain. He probably hadn't counted on having a crying muggle-born in his arms.

When at last she was done crying, he wiped away the tear tracks with his thumbs and she looked at him with a frown of confusion.

Why was he being so kind to her? Who was this man? Surely not Lucius Malfoy, the man who'd stood by and watched while she'd been tortured until he could stand it no more and left her alone in the room with Bellatrix Lestrange.

Could this be the same man who had tried to kill her?

"Are you alright?" he asked breaking the silence.

She couldn't help it, a small mirthless laugh left her throat. That question had started it all. That day in the tailors shop.

"No, I'm not." She replied plainly. "I'm damaged goods and I always will be. Your sister-in-law saw to that."

He flinched at her comment but did not say anything.

Another moment of quiet passed.

"Will you tell me why you can't?" Lucius asked, all trace of arrogance gone from his face.

She shook her head wordlessly.

"Is it because of that ridiculous dunderhead Weasley boy, you call a fiancé?"

"Yes that is part of it. When the war ended it was just natural for us to be together. And for a while, I thought we might be happy…But I was lying to myself. I can see that now."

"So it is because of him? And because of others expectations?"

She nodded grimly. What would Molly Weasley say if she could see her now? In the arms of a former Death Eater.

"But not entirely." He stated, reading her like an open book.

"No, you're right, it isn't just –" She took a deep breath. "It isn't just because I am engaged." She dreaded the question she knew would follow.

"What else is there then?" He asked, breathless and obviously frustrated.

She clenched her eyes shut for a moment before replying, "Bellatrix— She– She hurt me."

"Yes, I know. I saw the scar and the word it spells."

"No. Not just there."

"You are being vague Miss Granger. You are not usually one for mincing words. What could she possibly have done to make you so averse to my touch—" Hermione could practically see the light bulb turn on in his eyes.

"You are telling me, my deranged ex-sister in law abused you sexually." He said it in a hushed shocked tone. He truly hadn't known.

Hermione managed to say in a shaky voice, "She hurt me in ways I can't describe."

Hermione turned her face away, hoping against hope that he would let the matter lie. She should have known better.

He was a Malfoy after all.

He cupped her face turning it back towards him and making her look at him in the eyes once more.

"Tell me exactly what she did." He demanded his voice filled with a pained intensity.

"You don't need to know. It will repulse you... But then maybe that would solve all our problems." Her eyes became vacant and bitter, "You would never want to see me again if you knew. I haven't even told Ron exactly what it was she did…" She let a shaky breath escape her.

What was she doing, telling him all of this? To what purpose was she exposing herself to him?

She wasn't sure.

But she knew that she longed for someone, anyone, to understand what she meant when she said the word, 'Pain.'

She knew that none of her friends or relatives could understand what she meant because they had never been through it themselves.

Maybe it was because some part of her sensed that Lucius had suffered just as much as she had if not more so.

"Tell me, Hermione." It was the first time he had ever said her name. Something in his eyes compelled her to answer. She realised it would be very difficult to deny this man anything when he looked at her in the eyes.

She decided to cut to the quick.

"She shoved her wand inside my vagina and crucioed me from the inside. She used her wand to stab me until I was bleeding internally. She tore inside my womb. The Healers at St. Mungo told me it would be miracle if I ever have c-children." She had always wanted to be a mother, but Bellatrix had taken that from her. Molly Weasley had killed her but she still haunted Hermione's waking world.

"I had to get Harry and Ron to use every healing charm I could think of on me before I could leave your manor."

Lucius inhaled sharply and shut his eyes as if trying to absorb the shock of her words and prevent himself from hearing it at the same time.

It took him a long moment to compose himself before he spoke again.

"Come to my manor, this coming Monday at 1pm. I will not do anything you do not approve of. You will have access to the library all you need." He said the words swiftly but with determination. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and she leaned into his touch. For some reason she found his presence immensely comforting. Without giving her a chance to reply, he turned on his heel, quickly leaving her alone in the endless aisles of books.

It took her a moment to process all that had just happened and all that would now happen.

Monday. She'd see him again at his home on Monday. She'd have access to his library and the books she needed for work. She would go back to the Malfoy Manor. She shuddered remembering _that room_. She could only hope she wouldn't have to go back there. Surely he wouldn't make her go back there.

But one question kept nagging at the back of her mind.

"Why me?" she murmured to the empty air where he had stood.

Why was he pursuing her? Her of all people. Hermione knew she wasn't ugly, but she wasn't stunningly beautiful either. But if wasn't just lust, then why…?

Today he had been kind. He'd not kissed her when she told him not to, he'd held her through her tears, and he had offered her the use of his library. Was she fooling herself into believing it wasn't just lust?

She closed her eyes inhaling the remainder of his scent and took a few more deep breaths to calm her nerves.

She glanced at her watch, "Shit!" She was late for work. Her lunch hour had ended 15 minutes ago. It was the middle of a Wednesday and she was here distracted by a man she shouldn't even be talking to.

She thought of Ron and couldn't prevent the wave of guilt that washed over her making her cringe internally. For all her guilt, she would still go to Malfoy Manor next Monday.

She quickly exited the shop hurriedly, not stopping to speak to the shop owner, and quickly apparated back to the ministry, praying she would get away with saying she lost track of the time.

When she arrived later that night at the flat, she was surprised to note that Ron had not yet come home. It was past midnight. As punishment for being late, she'd been made to stay behind and organise some of the older, entirely useless files from past cases concerning her branch of the ministry. She had been cursing Irving Rathmoor to hell and back when she realised just how long it was going to take for her to be finished.

Instead of letting his absence bother her, she took a shower and then she crawled into their shared bed, and fell asleep quickly.

She didn't know what time it was when Ron came home, but he was making a lot of noise as he came into the apartment.

He climbed into bed, making it shake with his weight, and she rolled her eyes and held back an annoyed huff. He was never one for being considerate. He smelled like butterbeer and firewhiskey. He'd been out drinking again. It was becoming a habit of his, not to come home late until he was thoroughly soused.

She ignored him, pretending to still be asleep, and closed her eyes once more praying for a deep sleep to take her.

~TBC~

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(A/n: Hmm. Things are getting interesting. And I've only just begun. Thank you for all the lovely reviews! You are all too kind to me! So what do you think about this chapter? Drop me a line if you've got the time!)


	6. Chapter 6: The things we can't escape

**Title:** All of these things  
**Chapter 6:** The things we can't escape  
**Parings:** LM/HG, RW/HG (implied)  
**Rating:** M  
_**Warnings: TORTURE, SEXUAL ABUSE, DISTURBING THEMES. You've been warned**_.  
**Disclaimer:** All rights to their rightful owners. I am not making any money writing this.  
**Summary:** It's been two years since the war finished. And Ron and Hermione are still together happy as can be. Just as they should be. Just as everyone said they would be. It was expected. They are happy together. They really are. Aren't they? Hermione find herself wondering if after all they've been through, after two years together if this is all there really is to 'Love'. Isn't that what she truly feels about Ron? But then, from the person she least expected to see again, a seed of doubt is planted. She loves Ron, but she is not in love with him. How will she react when that seed begins to grow, into a forbidden love of such magnitude she had never imagined it possible?

**(A/n:** _This is a longer chapter than usual, so I hope it excuses the wait. Enjoy, and please drop me a line and tell me what you thought. I makes writing so much easier if I know I'm doing it for nothing. Oh and I would recommend listening to Snape to Malfoy Manor from the Deathly Hallows part 1 soundtrack for this chapter.)_

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"_I still get nightmares. In fact, I get them so often I should be used to them by now. I'm not. No one ever really gets used to nightmares." _

― _Mark Z. Danielewski__, __House of Leaves_

The last thing Hermione remembered was closing her eyes and her head hitting the pillow of her bed.

But when she opened her eyes, she was not in her bed. She was lying on the hardwood floor of the dining room of Malfoy Manor. Fear shot through her unadulterated and vivid as a bolt of lightning.

She heard a menacing cackle and knew immediately who it belonged to. Dread mingled with fear and she knew what was to follow.

" 'Ello pet." Sneered the whispery voice of the deranged woman behind her, "I've been waitin' for you. I think' I'll have me a chat with this one. Girl, to girl!" Said the voice of Bellatrix Lestrange.

Hermione was pinned to the floor. She couldn't get up no matter what she did.

And then the dark haired witch yelled "Crucio!" And Hermione screamed helplessly as the agony ripped through her like a thousand razor blades.

She thrashed on the hardwood floorboards, her head smashing against the wood hard, her neck snapping back as it did so. Her back arched painfully, and he heels dug in to the wood finding no purchase to ground herself, flailing uselessly against the polished floor boards.

The pain ended abruptly but the shock of it was still new and she was whimpering pathetically and her breathing came in short gasps.

Some part of her knew this was a dream, it was all too familiar. She'd been through this dream so many times she'd lost count over the last two years. She could even remember consciously what would happen next.

This was a dream that was also a memory after all.

Her reprieve from the pain didn't last.

Then Bellatrix was right up in her face, her reeking breath, her greasy tangled hair, her maniacal eyes burning holes into Hermione's.

"That sword was meant to be in my vault at Gringotts. How did you get it? What did you and your friends take from MY VAULT!?" Screeched Bellatrix right in her face. Her voice was so loud it was painful.

"I didn't take anything! Please!" She whimpered pitifully through the torrent of tears streaking down her face.

"I don't believe you. "She whispered menacingly.

"Who stole it? Huh? WHO!?" Bellatrix thundered in her face once more.

Hermione couldn't help the tears spilling over, and she whimpered again and shook her head helplessly 'no', she had no idea how the sword had come to them at the time. They'd just fonud it, in the pond. They had assumed it had been the same as that time in the Chamber of Secrets when Harry had found the sword in the hat, but she couldn't properly explain that to a deranged woman.

"WHO STOLE IT FROM MY VAULT?!" She shrieked again.

"We didn't take anything! Please!" she sobbed the words through the onslaught of tears she was fighting.

Then Bellatrix pulled out her knife from the robes and gripped Hermione's arm holding her down. Hermione felt the blade begin carving something into the skin of her forearm.

The dagger must have been enchanted, or covered in poison, because it felt like liquid fire with every cut and it burned worse once the knife pulled away from the cut. She screamed in pain and kicked and fought helplessly as the knife dug into her, the pain searing through her whole body.

Once Bellatrix was satisfied with her work she pulled back to admire the words carved viciously into her arm.

Hermione felt pathetic and small as she lay on the floor, unable to do much more than sob, completely powerless as the pain flared from her arm into her bloodstream and into her veins making her whole being burn.

"Who took it? Who stole it from my vault?" Bellatrix crooned almost gently, mockingly.

Her breathing was ragged because of the tears closing her throat tight and Bellatrix was so close to her face Hermione was afraid she might bite her face off.

"We found it. We didn't take anything!" She managed to mutter knowing the punishment for silence would be worse if she didn't say anything.

"You're a pathetic liar you filthy little _mudblood!_" She careened in Hermione's ear, and the she screamed at full voice, "CRUCIO!"

The pain was blinding. Hermione didn't know how much more she could take before she went made. "Still not talking mudblood?" Bellatrix hissed into her ear.

Hermione shook her head from side to side as the pain continued to reverberate across every millimetre of her body, like someone ripping her skin off piece by piece while breaking her bones with a bone grinder.

She was screaming, she knew she was, she could feel it being torn from her throat, but the pain was so great she couldn't hear herself anymore.

"Crucio!" Bellatrix hissed again. And just when Hermione thought the pain couldn't possibly get any worse, it did.

She was on fire. Her whole body was burning. She knew she must be burning.

But it wasn't ending, she wasn't dying.

She wished she was dead.

It wouldn't hurt when she was dead.

_'Please let me die. Let me die. Let me die.'_ She managed to think between the waves of impossible pain and the tears and gasping for breath.

"Now talk!" Bellatrix growled in her ear.

"I don't know." Hermione sobbed. "I don't know. I don't know, I don't know. Please stop. Please stop. Please!" She begged futilely.

"Crucio!" Bellatrix yelled once more and the inferno of pain began again.

She thrashed on the floor, screaming in agony, wishing for death with every fiber of her being.

Then, for some unknown reason, she looked up.

She met the eyes of a petrified, Lucius Malfoy, his face grim and his eyes filled with unfathomable feelings. She could not read his expression.

She managed to whimper one word while looking into his eyes, _"Please."  
_  
It was no longer Bellatrix she was asking to make it stop.

It was him.

Some deep part of Hermione's mind realised she was sleeping and that it wouldn't change anything, but it didn't matter. The pain was no less real than it had been the first time in the waking world. The mind, does not forget pain like that.

It wasn't the first time she'd had this dream. It was possibly not even the hundredth time she'd had this dream. In two years, it had always been this dream over and over again.

"Tough cookie mudblood. I thought I would be nice and give you to Greyback but I've thought of something much more entertaining. I'm done playing nicey nicey." Bellatrix cackled at her own joke and then ripped Hermione's clothes off with a flick of her wand. She was now naked on the floor immobilised and completely helpless.

But this was wrong. Lucius hadn't left the room. He was still there. Watching her.

"Now let's see what those two boys have been gettin' in on!" Hermione's eyes widened at the deranged witch's words, she wouldn't—she couldn't possibly mean—

Without hesitation Bellatrix shoved her wand into Hermione's core and she shrieked in pain. She felt it tear her inside, taking what should have been given to someone she trusted and loved. She'd lost her virginity…Taken by an insane woman, to humiliate and cause pain.

"Such a dirty, bloody, cunt!" Bellatrix chortled, as blood flowed down her thighs to the floor. "You _FILTHY MUDBLOOD WHORE!_" Bellatrix shrieked out her words. Hermione was still crying, trying her hardest not to beg again.

But that was just the beginning.

"_Crucio!"_ Bellatrix let the spell explode from within Hermione and her whole body jerked violently, her mouth open in a silent scream.

Shame, humiliation, fear. All of it replaced by the pure agony of that spell resounding from the inside of her very being.

She felt the last shred of her humanity break inside of her.

She wasn't human. She was a mudblood. She was nothing.

Her eyes somehow found those of Lucius Malfoy's again. His expression smooth, like a frozen pool of water. But his eyes betrayed his emotions. She saw his eyes glisten with unmistakable moisture. Hermione watched as the tears slid down his unshaven face.

Tears. For _her._

He was crying for _her._ For her pain. Because he could not help her.

The pain in his eyes mirrored hers. He understood fully the pain she was going through. Some small part of her brain realised that he had been through this level of pain himself.

Then Bellatrix laughed again and crucioed her once more. She couldn't help the scream being ripped from her throat, or the way her body twisted as the curse wreaked havoc on her nervous system, but not once did she look away from his eyes. And he did not look away either.

In that instance looking into his steely grey eyes, she was sure she was going to die.

A hard slap to her face brought Hermione gasping and screaming back to her bed, in the waking world.

"Mione! Bloody Hell, Hermione, stop screaming, are you alright?" Ron exclaimed worriedly, "It was just a dream! Just a dream." Ron tried to take her into his arms to comfort her. She felt immediate revulsion and shoved him away harshly.

She was going to be sick. She ran to the bathroom just barely making it. She was sick till there was nothing left inside of her and then her body still heaved.

The pain. The pain of those memories was still as fresh as if the curse had been re-applied to her while she slept.

It did not feel like a dream. It never did.

Her hands shook and her whole body shivered against the tremors caused by the old damage to her nerves. Her nerves were fine now, physically, but the psychological trauma caused her body to react this way. Her body remembered the pain all too clearly.

She had forgotten to take a dreamless sleep potion before going to bed again. She should have known better. But some nights even the strongest dreamless sleep potion wasn't strong enough to prevent her nightmares. These dreams had been plaguing her for the better part of the last two years. Some nights they didn't appear. But most nights they did.

But this time the dream had been different.

This was the first time Lucius had not left the room, had looked at her with something other than just a blank expression in the dream.

He had cried for her. What did that mean? Did it mean anything? Probably not, she reasoned, but then why had the dream changed now, after so many nights and years of it never changing in the slightest detail?

"Mione? Baby, are you going to be alright?" Ron interrupted her train of thought. She hated it when he called her 'baby'. What a disgusting, plebeian, _stupid_, endearment. She was surprised at the level of her own vehemence directed at him.

She ignored his question and instead said, "Did you have to slap me awake?" She touched her aching cheek and noticed she would likely have a bruise. Her red haired fiancée had the gall to grin sheepishly. He shrugged in a motion she presumed he thought of as apologetic.

"Well, I tried to shake you, and I was calling your name but you didn't wake up. Blimey Hermione, I knew you were having nightmares but nothing like this. Maybe you should go talk to someone at St. Mungo's. They'd give you a potion that'd fix you right up." She could not believe the words that had just come out of his mouth.

She closed her eyes and hissed, "Get. Out."

"What? What are you—"

"I said. GET. OUT. NOW." Hermione snarled in her deadliest voice. The kind she usually reserved for the scum of the earth. Ron took one look at her face and high tailed it out of their room.

How dare Ron suggest that all her problems could be fixed by a potion. A simple concoction of ingredients could not heal her wounds, nor make the pain of the past stop haunting her. It couldn't stop making her relieve that day in the dining room over and over and over again.

Hermione pressed a hand to her lower abdomen and felt the scar there where the St. Mungo doctors had repaired her womb as best they could. They said, it was possibility that she conceive but was very likely unable to carry the child to full term if she ever got pregnant.

She'd never told Ron... She supposed she should have but she couldn't bear to see his face when he learned he would likely never be a father if he married her. But they'd both agreed they weren't anywhere near ready to be parents. He still took precautions, seeing as she was allergic to the contraception potion's ingredients. But either way, Hermione wasn't sure if she could bear to bring an innocent child into this world.

She could still hear Bellatrix's laughter ringing in her ears. She shuddered violently, wrapping her arms around herself, in an effort to push away the nightmare.

She looked at herself in the mirror, seeing dark bags under her red shot eyes, and mussed up hair. Her face was white as a sheet, and she felt her legs shaking with the effort of holding herself up.

She let her legs give out under her, falling to the cold tilled floor of the bathroom.

She curled up into a foetus position there on the floor, shaking from the aftermath of the dream and the all too real pain. Maybe Ron was right. Maybe she did need a visit to St. Mungo's.

She closed her eyes and thought of the dream and how it had been different this time.

Lucius had looked at her. She could still see the pain in his grey eyes.

He'd looked her right in the eyes as though he could see her as a person in pain, as though he wished he could stop her pain.

That had never happened before. In her dreams he always looked at her with a flat unreadable expression and then left the room and the dream just got worse from there until finally her body said enough and she woke up crying.

This time she'd been screaming in her sleep, she knew because her voice felt raw and Ron had yelled at her to stop screaming.

A sudden longing for someone to hold her overtook her and she almost went crawling to find Ron, so great was her need for someone to comfort her. But then she thought about Ron's limp arms and smelly breath and dismissed the idea. She only wanted one pair of arms around her and they were the arms of the man in her nightmares.

Hermione needed to see him. She needed him, his eyes, his face, to feel his strong arms around her, protecting her from the darkness she felt creeping in around her mind as exhaustion over took her.

She forced herself to stand, not giving herself time to think and taking her wand with her, with a loud crack she apparated.

She landed in an ungraceful heap outside the gate of Malfoy Manor.

A house elf promptly appeared to open the gate despite the hour and said, "How may I help you Miss…?"

"Granger. Hermione Granger. I need to see your master." Hermione managed to say.

The house elf nodded and led the way into the house yard dispelling the wards and opening the imposing door of solid dark hard wood that was the front door.

'_What am I doing here?_' she thought almost in a dazed state.

She felt as though she were standing at the top of a cliff, looking down, wondering what would happen if she fell.

The house elf left for a moment, then came back and behind him was the imposing figure of Lucius Malfoy.

"Miss Granger? I trust there is a reason you are here at such an unseemly hour." The curiosity and vague annoyance in his voice, evident to any who heard it.

"I—" She could not continue. He took in her apparel, her disheveled hair, her distraught appearance and his eyes widened.

She couldn't help the small whimper torn from her as she watched the confusion spread across his features.

He reached out for her with his long arms, somehow sensing what she needed, and he drew her into his embrace. He held her small frame against his solid chest, his warm arms coming up to hold her to him gently but securely. She drew shuddering breaths, willing herself not to burst out sobbing, in the arms of the man offering her comfort.

She inhaled and smelt the familiar scent of citrus, ginger, cloves and sandalwood, all mixed together with the smell of her nightmare and the house's scent of old books and rugs, and ancient hardwood floors. She felt the tears begin to slide down her cheeks and she was helpless to prevent their appearance.

"Are you hurt?" He asked breaking the silence.

"No." She replied quietly, her face turned into his chest.

"Are you afraid?" He asked once more, his tone filled with genuine concern.

She thought about that for a moment before saying, "Yes, I'm afraid."

"Of what?"

"My nightmares." She whispered. He said nothing only waited for her to elaborate in her own time.

"Almost every single night, if I don't take a dreamless sleep potion to prevent them, I dream of Bellatrix, and of you, in your dining room. For the past two years."

He was apparently stunned into silence for a long moment before speaking again.

"I wish I could say it was under more flattering circumstances that I found myself the center of your dreams. What was different tonight?" He asked, as perceptive as ever.

"You cried for me." She murmured, still confused about the change in her dream.

"Pardon?" His brow furrowed in confusion.

"You watched Bellatrix torture me but this time you were crying. You were crying for _me._ It was as if you wanted to stop my pain. As if you cared that a _mudblood_—" she stopped in the middle of her sentence.

She suddenly felt ridiculous.

She was just a mudblood to him. And it was just a dream. He hadn't felt anything that day. She was just deluding herself.

He said nothing for a long moment. Hermione closed her eyes, understanding why he couldn't say anything.

"But I'm just being silly little mudblood aren't I? It was just a dream. I shouldn't have come here."

She pulled out of his arms and turned to leave. He caught her wrist, stopping her impending flight.

"I did." He said the words, his eyes closed, his hand a claw around her wrist. His voice was low and pained.

"What?" Hermione asked, certain she had either heard him wrong, or that she had misunderstood his meaning. He couldn't possibly have said— his next words interrupted that thought.

He opened his eyes and looked her dead in the eye, "I did want to stop her from hurting you."

She felt her mouth fall open and the following question burst out, "Then why didn't you?"

"Because if I had, she would have killed me, then my son and maybe my wife, and then tortured you until you were nothing but a shadow of yourself before killing you. I couldn't do anything, and I couldn't bear to watch you suffer. I was a coward. I left the room. Your screams have haunted me for the past two years."

"Oh." She couldn't process all of this. It was all too much. His admission had been the final straw. The nightmare, her fight with Ron, her lack of sleep and this new information was making her head swim. She saw black spots and she felt dizzy, swaying on her feet. With that she promptly fainted in the arms of Lucius Malfoy.

Lucius caught her as she her body gave out. He lifted her up, surprised at how little she weighed. If she weighed more than 6 stone soaking wet he'd ask to see proof.

He cradled her gently against him, as his walked through his house towards the rooms.  
Finally arriving at the swan room he opened the door with wandless magic and set her down on the bed.

He pulled back the back the covers and placed her on the bed and climbing in beside her.

He pulled her into his arms, resting her head on his chest and then murmured, "Nox." And the light in the room went out.

He quickly fell back asleep, her presence there, remarkably soothing to him.

Hermione awoke to find herself in an unfamiliar soft bed, surprisingly better rested than she had been since—well since she could remember. She looked to her right and saw the sleeping form of Lucius Malfoy, his body turned away from her, his face hidden by his long blonde tresses.

She saw the morning light coming into the room from the window.

She suddenly realised she'd slept for more than 6 hours uninterrupted by nightmares for the first time in two year.

She glanced at the grandfather-clock in the corner of the room and gasped, it was 7:45am. Her job at the ministry began at 8am. She was late. "Damn." She muttered under her breath.

Her boss, Irving Rathmoor, was sure to give her and earful once she got into work. And Ron—Oh god, she'd left last night without saying anything. And they'd fought. He'd likely sent out a search party by now. She supressed a groan. Dealing with Ron and whoever else was the last thing she needed at the moment.

Quickly, she stood up and noticed her clothes. She most certainly could not go to work in her pj's. She'd have to go back to her flat to change and then go to work, making her even more late and then there was the blond man lying in bed beside her to think about. She glanced over at the still sleeping blond and sighed.

What the bloody hell was she doing here? Pushing him away one moment and needing him close the next. She was acting like some kind of pathetic floozy.

And then there was her fiancé. She couldn't do this to Ron anymore. She had to be honest with him and herself.

She had to break it off.

Even if Harry and Ginny and the rest of the Weasleys despised her for it, they weren't right together. It was as simple as that. She should have seen their relationship for what it was earlier. Convenient, ill-matched and expected. And it was _wrong _for her_._

She was jolted out of her thoughts by a stirring Lucius. He shifted for a moment then rolled onto his back still very much asleep. He looked devilishly handsome, even at this hour in the morning and asleep. His face was relaxed and his hair was splayed around him half-hazardly. She was surprised to note, he didn't snore, at all. He was the first man she had ever met who did not snore.

His admission of regret last night had shocked her so much she had fainted dead away. She would have to figure out how she felt about his regret and what it changed exactly. But she didn't have the time to ponder that now. She had to go to work.

She decided not to wake him. He seemed to be very deeply asleep.

She got up and went to the desk by the window. She wrote a note to the ministry first, telling them she was going to be approximately an hour late coming in because she had a dentist appointment. A lie, but not one people would question her on seeing as they most likely did not know what a dentist was.

Then she wrote a note to Ron saying she was fine and for him not worry. She also told him they needed to talk. She left it at that. No matter her…'involvement?' she supposed that was what it was, with Lucius, her relationship with Ron had run its course. She regretted ever agreeing to an engagement, but he had proposed in front of the whole Weasley family on Christmas day. It would have been excruciatingly awkward to have said 'no' in front of everyone. And at the time, she'd had no reason to refuse him. Not that Lucius was the reason for her breaking the engagement, but she couldn't deny that it was he who had brought all the impossible faults of her skewered relationship to the fore.

Hell, for all she knew, Lucius only wanted to get into her pants. And yet…last night he'd been kind. He'd held her and soothed her and he'd admitted to wishing he could have prevented her torture.

Still, as it stood now, he hadn't said anything beyond flirting, a single hungry kiss and being overtly sexual towards her. For all she knew he could simply be after her for a good shag.

Before committing to anything, she needed to know 'Why her?' first and foremost.

She wrote the last note to Lucius,

'Lucius,  
Thank you for last night. I have to go to work now. Lucius, we have to talk. Soon. Owl me as soon as it's convenient for you. Thank you again.

Sincerely, Hermione Granger.'

She enchanted the note with a 'Notice Me' charm, and left it on the desk where he would certainly see it. She then exited the room with one last look at the sleeping man, and went downstairs. The house was eerily quiet and she wondered where the house elf was.

"Tibby?" She called tentatively. Immediately the house elf appeared. "Yes Miss?" the elf queried politely if a bit nervously.

"I need to post these letters. Is there an owl I could use?"

"Yes Miss." The elf repeated in affirmation.

Tibby led the way to a side door that led to a study where an elegant horned owl appraised her questioningly.

"I need this letter brought to Ronald Weasley at the world Quidditch association. And I need this one taken to the Ministry of Magic at the department of Misuse and Abuse of Magical creatures. Can you do that for me?"

The owl glared and hooted indignantly at her as if to say, 'Of course I can.' then held out his paw for her to attach the letter. She latched them on and the owl gripped them in its claws and then flew out the window.

"Tibby?" She called the house elf back into the room.

"Yes Miss?" the house elf asked once again.

"I'll be leaving now. Please thank your master for me, and tell him I will see him on Monday."

"Yes, Miss."

Hermione was beginning to wonder if 'Yes Miss' were the only words the elf knew.

"Thank you Tibby. Good bye."

Leaving a shocked and wide eyed elf behind her, she left the manor quickly.

Once outside the gate she apparated back to her flat to get showered and get changed. She only hoped Ron wasn't there, after last night's row, if you could call it that. She wondered if he'd called Harry to come a look for her. She wouldn't put it past him.

When she arrived she was relived to note that no one was at the flat.

She walked into the entrance hallway and noticed a note in the mirror there.

"Hermione,

There was an emergency cancelation last minute on the team and I was asked to fill in. It's the beginning of the series and I couldn't say no. I'm gone to a match in Bulgaria for the next two or three days and I can't be delayed. You left the flat last night, and I don't know where you went. You should Floo me and let me know you're alright. I hope when you come home you'll be feeling better. See you when I get back.

Love, Ron."

She re-read the note not fully understanding what it meant, until the third time she read it.

He hadn't even looked for her. That realisation hit her hard and she dropped the note in her hands.

He had known she was in a bad place, that she had left without saying anything and he hadn't even bothered to tell anyone, or to go look for her himself. His match in Bulgaria had been more important.

She closed her eyes, and clenched her teeth, her anger and frustration overcoming her. This event just cemented her decision. She would break off the engagement.

As soon as he got back it was over between them.

In a fit of childish anger, she ripped the note to pieces and then threw them in the waste basket.

She quickly showered and got ready for what was promising to be a very long and tedious day at work.

After having received a growling reprieve from her boss for being late, due to her 'appointment', she was dully buried under copious piles of useless paper work. It had not been labeled a punishment, but she knew this kind of work was far below her pay grade. This was work for the ministry flunkies, certainly not for the Head of the Law Section in her department. She spent the better part of the morning working through the first of the piles of towering amount of paperwork. By noon she felt a headache coming on and realised she hadn't eaten all day. She let a small groan escape her and she rubbed the back of her neck, sore from being bent over for so long. She closed her eyes and sighed.

A knock on the doorframe of her office made her look up to see a worried looking Lucius Malfoy, searching her face.

He entered the room and shut the door behind himself. She was to say the least, surprised to see him here. Neither said anything and she frowned not sure how to proceed.

Finally he spoke, "I had to come to the ministry for a business meeting and thought I'd drop by and see you while I was here. You left this morning without saying anything. I was worried."

She gapped at him for a moment incredulously. Hermione almost laughed out loud at the thought. Lucius Malfoy, worried about her? What sweet madness was this?

"I left a note, didn't I?" Was the first thing that came out of her mouth, before turning back to her work on her desk. Why was he here really? She reasoned he probably wanted something from her. Like all the other times before they had met 'accidentally'.

"Yes." He agreed, "But that is not the same as saying goodbye."

Hermione looked up at him with a glare, frustrated with his inconsistent behaviour. One minute he wanted to shag her senseless in a back alley, the next he was worrying about her not having said goodbye after what she had thought had been a rather selfish act, in visiting him late at night only to be comforted and not give anything in return.

What was he playing at?

One moment he was the demanding seducer and the next this strange man who appeared to care about her welfare but couldn't possibly be reconciled with the Lucius Malfoy she knew from experience. It was all extremely bewildering.

"Mr. Malfoy, I'm sorry I inconvenienced you last night. It will not happen again. Now I need to work. Please contact me outside of working hours." She said coolly, shutting down into her usual shield of professionalism.

He frowned at her, a look of disbelief appearing on his features. "Yes. Of course, I mustn't interfere with your precious work." He retorted now clearly annoyed, "Merlin forbid that I actually wish to speak to you because I am worried about you welfare. Good day to you Miss Granger." With that, he turned on his heel to exit the office, his robes swirling behind him in billowing black tails.

Hermione desperately wanted to say something but held her tongue. She had really put her foot in her mouth this time hadn't she?

Instead she watched him head for her office door helplessly. She couldn't let him leave like this. Not like this.

She stood abruptly, and hurried across the room, catching his arm just as he was about to open the door to leave.

"I'm sorry. I-I shouldn't have—" she paused and took a deep breath. "I was rude without cause. You've been more than kind. Please forgive me." Hermione managed a small smile apologetic, and his expression softened to one she couldn't read. He reached up and tucked a lose strand of hair behind her ear.

"I simply came to ask if you were alright after last night." He asked looking into her face, as if searching for the answer there.

She hesitated before answering, "Yes. I am. I promise." She replied truthfully. She really was alright. Last night she'd had the best sleep she'd had since before the war.

He nodded once and took her hand in his, making her release her hold on his coat sleeve.

"Well then. I will let you get back to your work."

Hermione tightened the grip she had on his hand preventing his departure once more.

"Lucius, wait I—" She hesitated. They still needed to talk. But now was not the time. She wanted to talk on familiar ground this time.

"Yes, Miss Granger?" He asked with a trace of his trademark smirk toying at the corners of his mouth.

"Come by my flat this evening. We need to talk, about… this." She gestured between herself and him. It was the first time either of them had acknowledged a connection between them. He looked at her seriously and nodded once more.

"Your address?"

She went and wrote it down on a piece of parchment from her desk, and handed it to him.

He looked at it once and tucked it into his coat pocket.

"What time should I arrive?"

"Is 8 o'clock too late?"

"Not at all. I will see you then, Hermione." The use of her first name sent a pleasant shiver through her. She enjoyed the sound of her name coming from his mouth. He brought her hand to his lips once more and kissed the top of it, just like that first day in Twilfitt's and Tattings. It was a gesture of respect, given to her, a mudblood, from him, a pureblood.

He released her hand and without another word left the room.

Hermione went behind her desk only to collapse into her chair.

'_What the bloody hell am I doing?' _She thought to herself, covering her eyes with her hand, groaning quietly in frustration.

~TBC~

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**(A/n:** _Oh Hermione, you know exactly what you're doing. He is what you need. Just admit it already! *Glares at my muse* Calliope get into gear already! Hope you enjoyed it, even though it was rather morbid. Please comment and tell what you thought. Constructive criticism is always welcome. And I'm still searching for a Beta if anyone is interested, please PM me. ) _


	7. Chapter 7: The things we didn't expect

**Title**: All of these things  
**Chapter 7:** The Things We Didn't Expect  
**Parings:** LM/HG, RW/HG (implied)  
**Rating:** M  
**Warnings:** Sexual content, angst, drama  
**Disclaimer:** All rights to their rightful owners. I am not making any money writing this.  
**Summary:** It's been two years since the war finished. And Ron and Hermione are still together happy as can be. Just as they should be. Just as everyone said they would be. It was expected. They are happy together. They really are. Aren't they? Hermione find herself wondering if after all they've been through, after two years together if this is all there really is to 'Love'. Isn't that what she truly feels about Ron? But then, from the person she least expected to see again, a seed of doubt is planted. She loves Ron, but she is not in love with him. How will she react when that seed begins to grow, into a forbidden love of such magnitude she had never imagined it possible?

**(A/n:** So sorry for the long wait! this chapter is longer than usual and I hope it makes up for it, if only a bit. A huge thank you to my absolutely wonderful beta Ceebreez88.)

* * *

_Don't choose me because I am faithful  
Don't choose me because I am kind  
If your heart settles on me, I'm for the taking  
Take me for longing or leave me behind.__  
__I would be, for you, a fire in a rainbow  
I would be, for you, an opening door  
Time and hard lessons are one kind of wisdom.  
Try to forget them or love me no more__  
__I'm not asking your heart to believe me  
I'm not asking for promise or pledge  
whenever the answer is 'yes', that's the question  
I am the fool dancing over the edge_  
-Anonymous

Hermione arrived at her flat at 7pm, after finally finishing the ridiculous amount of paper work that her git of a boss had given her. Immediately upon her arrival she began cleaning the flat like hell hath no fury. Seeing as Ron was not exactly a clean roommate and she had been so busy at work recently, the flat had become rather cluttered and messy.

Thankfully she had magic to help her, and by the time it was 7:45pm the flat was as clean as the day they had bought it.

She wondered if she should offer some form of food or drink to Lucius. After several minutes of silently deliberating, she resolved on opening a bottle of white wine and set a plate of hors d'oeuvres, pear slices, and green grapes along with a good Brie cheese that completed the dish.

After that was set and the wine left to breathe, she slipped into her favourite casual black sheath. It hugged her curves and was cut in a straight, sharp line at her collarbone. It exposed her shoulders and neck while still being modest. She left her hair down, not wanting to appear too formal, and in that spirit of things chose to remain barefoot; this was her home after all. Regardless of if it didn't feel like it, even at the best of times.

She put on a bit of natural looking makeup more for her own insecurity rather than Lucius' benefit really, and then chose a pair of dangling silver earrings along with a few silver bangles to complete her look.

She also made sure to remove the engagement ring Ron had given her. As she placed it on the vanity, she had a sense of premonition. She would never put it back on now that she'd taken it off.

She looked herself over once more in the vanity mirror and nodded at the reflection there. Pleased with her appearance, she allowed herself a small smile at her reflection.

Then her smile faltered as she reminded herself whom it was coming to talk with her this evening and why.

She glared at her reflection now, berating herself internally. _'This isn't a bloody date you daft chit! You have to talk about what this thing between you is and where you want it to go. Don't be pathetic.'_

Her enchanted reflection merely smirked back at her knowingly.

She huffed at the woman in the mirror and rolled her eyes heaven ward. Lord knew she could use some heavenly intervention right about now.

The doorbell rang at exactly 8 o'clock on the dot.

She hurried to open the door and smiled in welcome to the blond imposing figure standing there.

"Lucius. I'm glad you came." Realising what she'd just said, she could have hit her head against the wall for the way it sounded, needy and breathless, but refrained in his presence, "Please, come in."

It took Hermione considerable effort not to openly stare at the striking blond man before her. She was used to seeing him in black. All black, almost every single time she'd seen him.

This was certainly different.

He wore a casual grey suit jacket that was cut at the middle of the calf in the wizarding fashion and a pale blue button up shirt over grey trousers. The lighter colours of his clothing combined with his pale blond hair and steely grey eyes, was certain to be heart attack inducing to all things female.

"Hermione, may I say you look lovely this evening?" He murmured in that suave, honeyed voice of his.

His voice reminded her of candle wax slowly melting, gliding down the candle, searing and smooth all at once.

She was surprised at herself, she usually wasn't one for poetic imagery, but one could argue that when faced with that face and voice, a girl could hardly be blamed for a bit of frivolity.

Hermione blushed at the compliment and coughed to cover up her embarrassment. She was aware that she wasn't the usual 'pretty girl' with her small chest and slim physique, but he didn't seem to care. It was flattering to say the least.

"Yes, well um— thank you." She managed to stammer, relieved she didn't sound too idiotic.

Hermione led him into the living room and sat on one end of the small sofa tucking her feet up and under herself, and gestured for him to sit at the other end. He did and she poured herself a glass of wine. She was going to need it for the coming discussion.

"A glass of wine, Lucius?" She asked, hoping the tremble in her voice wasn't too obvious.

He nodded, a smirk playing on his mouth. "Yes, that would be welcome."

She poured him one and handed the glass to him. He took it from her and their fingers touched just briefly, but that was all it took to send sparks of electricity through Hermione. She wondered if he felt it too. If he did, he gave no sign of it.

He took a drink of it, closed his eyes and hummed in approval.

He reached for the bottle and looked it over, "1994, a good year for Château Blanc."

"Yes." She took a rather large gulp of her own glass, and felt the liquid form a warm path down her throat giving her courage. Thank goodness she'd decided against firewhiskey or she would most certainly have been too drunk for any form of conversation.

She glanced up at the man sitting beside her. "Lucius, we have to talk."

"So you keep saying."

"About us." She hedged.

"Hmm." He replied frustratingly.

"Well?" She prodded him.

"Well what?" He asked feigning ignorance.

"Where do you want this to go?" She practically bit out, fed up with his word games.

"Truthfully, I believe that question to be better suited for you. I am unattached, you are not." He replied bluntly, but not unkindly.

"I—" she hesitated and bit her bottom lip.

"Yes?"

"I'm breaking off my engagement." She blurted out, not sure if it was a good idea to tell him. She couldn't know how he would take that information.

He looked at her levelly, taking in just how serious she was about that statement. "I could tell you I was sorry to hear you say so, but that would be a lie."

"Now it's your turn." She said part of her dreading his answer and the other part impatient to hear it.

He angled his head and reached across the small sofa to brush his knuckles against her cheek, trailing his fingers along her jaw. Her breathing increased in speed and she swallowed reflexively. His eyes followed the movement, darkening. His thumb rubbed along her bottom lip and her eyes became half lidded. She felt heat course through her veins and arousal settled deep and insatiable in her belly.

"You know what I want." He murmured, still holding his hand to her cheek.

His eyes wracked hungrily over her body making her shiver. Yes, she did know what he wanted.

She nodded slowly then said, "Yes."

He dropped his hand from her face and took another drink of his wine.

"I suppose my true question is do you want _more?"_ She managed to say at last.

He raised an eyebrow inquisitively at her. She did not elaborate, he knew what she meant.

"_More. Than. What?"_ He said the words slowly, teasing her, demanding she say it out loud.

She muttered her answer under her breath. He tilted his head in her direction to indicate he had not heard.

"I'm sorry. I didn't quite catch that."

She glared at him before repeating her earlier answer.

"Sex." Her voice trembled a bit on the word and he smirked again.

"Do I want more with you than just sex? Is that what you want to know?" He continued, enjoying her torment. He knew perfectly well this was making her uncomfortable.

"Yes." She replied curtly, feeling her cheeks flaming, certain they were a deep red.

He paused then looking away from her, "The answer is… I'm not sure. But I would certainly enjoy the opportunity of finding out... As I'm certain, so would you." He replied with only a trace of his classic arrogance. His gaze caught hers and his stormy grey eyes trapped her own brown flecked with green ones.

She nodded wordlessly again.

"Well then Miss Granger." He murmured, "We've 'talked'." He stated, teasing her again.

"We've established the ground work for what comes next. Now it's simply a question of _when._" His gaze dipped to her chest and then down her legs and then back up to her face, and she trembled just from his heated appraisal of her.

He hadn't even touched her and still she could felt a flood of heat between her thighs. With just his eyes and his voice and physical presence he had her ready and willing for him to take as he pleased. She was sodden and aching for him. There was no point in denying it.

She took a swallow of her wine again, and she released a shaky breath. He was watching her every move, his eyes hungry and questioning.

"I've not broken my engagement yet."

"I'm aware." He paused, assessing her once again. "Does that mean you require more time?"

She worried her bottom lip, as she looked him over, assessing his appearance as much as truly taking in the fact that he was here, in her flat sitting across from her, asking her to sleep with him.

He was certainly attractive for a man in his mid-forties, fit and strong, with hands easily twice the size of her own with light calluses and long strong fingers, he had a broad chest and shoulders, a flat muscled stomach, a tapered waist, an arse to die for, long shapely legs, and from what she could tell from their previous encounters, a rather large appendage between said legs.

He smirked, enjoying her appraisal knowing that she would enjoy what she found. She continued, undeterred by the fact he was aware she was 'checking him out' as it were.

His face was only lightly lined; his eyes clear and grey like a rainy sky, his long blond tresses accentuating his sharp features. He was every woman's wet dream and he wanted _her._

But there was the small issue of their shared horrific past, and his ex-wife and son who would more than likely enter the picture at some point.

"Lucius I—" She faltered with a gasp as his hand touched her exposed shoulder, finger tips trailing up the side of her neck provocatively.

"Yes?" He asked with a knowing smile.

"I need to know…" she took a deep breath, then took the plunge, "Why me? Of all the women in the world, why would you ever choose me?"

His hand paused and he searched her eyes and face again.

"Tell me about your relationship with Ronald Weasley." He said completely unexpectedly.

"What? Why?" She asked, perplexed.

"Tell me."

"I— well, we were best friend at Hogwarts, we've been through hell and back with Harry, and we became an official couple after the war."

"I know all of that already," He said impatiently, "Tell me what your relationship with him is like now."

"We—" And then she realised why he wanted to hear her say it.

"Yes? I'm waiting?"

"We barely talk about anything else but him. And when we talk about things it's mostly about our work or our families. We don't have anything in common. I hate Quidditch, he hates books. We argue often. The sex we have is mediocre and unsatisfying. Our relationship is strained and terse at the best of times. We became a couple thinking we could work out the details later but, we never did really."

"If you knew all that beforehand, then why did you become a couple at all?" He asked not letting any emotion show on his face.

"Many young people became couples during the war. We thought we were going to die."

"And after the war? Why did you accept his proposal?" He continued to push his line of questioning.

"Because it was the right thing to do at the time." She answered, her response automatic, like a broken record that everyone knows something is wrong with except for the record itself.

"The right thing for you and him or the right thing for everyone else? You knew it wasn't, and yet you accepted, now tell me why." he growled, pushing her towards the conclusion he had reached before her. But what did this have to do with why he had decided to seduce her?

"I don't see what this has to do with—"

"Tell. Me. Why." He said flatly separating the words, emphasising each one.

"Because—" She paused, seeing the true reason clearly for the first time, "Because it was expected."

"Yes, precisely. Because, it was _expected."_ He spat the last word with immense disdain and a level of resentment she didn't understand.

"What does that have to do with you…pursuing me?" She asked, truly confused at the direction this conversation had taken. She searched his face for the answer and found none as per usual.

"I decided to pursue you, to suggest the possibility of what could be, if you didn't marry the Weasley boy, because I know what _expectations _can do to a person's life." He answered, his eyes never leaving hers.

She was stunned momentarily. She looked at him incredulous. He was serious.

"You seduced me because you think my marriage to Ron would make me miserable?"

"I haven't succeeded yet." He pointed out as if that would make the whole thing any less ludicrous, "But yes, initially, that was my primary motivation."

"Initially?" She asked sensing the importance of that one word. There were more reasons?

"When I first saw you in Twilfitt's and Tattings' I was surprised to see you looking well, but tired. I could see you were made uncomfortable by my presence, and I could not blame you, our last encounter had been, shall we say unpleasant, or is that too grand of a euphemism?" Lucius raised an eyebrow at her sardonically.

She didn't reply, only waited for him to continue.

"Regardless I was intrigued," He continued, "I had not heard much news of you or of the Weasley boy since the war's end. I searched the newspapers and discovered your employment and your engagement to that red headed fool. By all accounts I was confounded; I could not understand why such a bright witch as yourself would ever marry that unintelligent oaf, friend or not. I puzzled over the facts in my mind for days until I finally understood.

Hermione sat listening to his version of accounts with a growing cold sensation in her chest. _'Where is this conversation headed?'_ She wondered apprehensively.

"You could only be doing this out of a misguided sense of obligation. You had never been with anyone else seriously, or so I gathered from Draco's recounting of your time at school, and you felt you owed it to your friends and family, and you could not justify saying 'no' to him, or to them or to yourself because no one else had ever shown an interest in you. You were marrying the boy, because it was _expected of you._ Out of loyalty, a very noble, but foolish Gryffindor sentiment.

"I resolved to show you that it was not your only option, that it was possible to experience heat and passion and something beyond mere friendship and obligation. But when I encountered you at that meeting of the Board of Governors, I was surprised at my own reactions to you. I found myself desiring you, not for the mere sake of preventing you from making such a grievous mistake but also purely for physical reasons. I was, to say the least, shocked. Despite our past and the war's effect on our current situation I knew I had to do something. You elicited feelings in me, I had thought long dead. I was determined to find out where this could lead, and I tested the waters. When you had not pulled your hand away from mine as though you'd been bitten by a snake, I knew. I knew then you were open to my advances. And Merlin help me, how I wanted you."

She gasped openly at his last statement and his gaze fell to her mouth, and she couldn't help licking her lips self-consciously.

He inhaled sharply at the gesture and his gaze darkened, clear lust written all over his face. He shut his eyes and on opening them, averted his gaze in an effort at self-control.

He forged on, "But you ran from me that day and I was unsure how to proceed. My prejudice against the Muggleborns was a factor I assumed had much to do with it, and your confusion at my advances was most certainly another. I did not know whether to continue with my plan or to simply let matters lie. But then I bumped into you in Diagon Alley. You made my blood boil and made my heart pound. I felt alive, for the first time in years. I felt passionate, enlivened, energized, and above all hopeful. All the things I had given up on ever feeling again after the war. I felt as if I would die if I did not have you then and there. But we were interrupted and reminded of our surroundings and of our past. And you ran from me once again. Then I knew I could not let it go. I had to show you, had to have you. I had planted the seed of doubt and now I would be sure to nurture it, and see it grow to fruition.

"I sent you that book, simply to remind you of my existence until we could meet again. And then the Ministry celebration was announced and I knew what my next course of actions would be. I made sure to be invited to the Ministry celebration. I knew you would be in attendance and I sought you out. I thoroughly enjoyed our dance, and I'm sure you did as well, despite your protests. To quote a certain muggle writer, 'Me thinks the lady doth protest too much,' and indeed you did. I was sorely tempted to kiss you in front of them all, if only to elicit a reaction from you, audience be damned. But I held back, and that foolish boy appeared to take you away.

"And then in Flourish and Blotts I was hard pressed not to take you there against the bookshelves regardless of the circumstances. I wanted to. But you, you told me 'no'. You denied yourself and me, and I was confused. Why? Why push me away? When you explained what my insane ex-sister-in-law had subjected you too, I felt despicable, touching you like I had, after having left you there to her wills. I had no way of knowing, I tried to tell myself, but it was useless. And even more surprising was that I felt _regret_. It was such an unfamiliar sensation. I was staggered by it and left you there with a guilty acquiescence to your request to use my library. The offer still stands by the way, and I fully expect to see you on Monday morning bright and early.

"My earlier goal of making you understand why you shouldn't be with the Weasley boy is all but forgotten, and I cannot deny my attraction to you Hermione. But nor can I deny this burning regret I feel inside of me. I should have done somethi—" She covered his mouth with a finger silencing him.

"No. You couldn't have." She deadpanned. It wasn't meant meanly, it was simply a fact. One she had come to accept.

"If you had, Draco, Narcissa and you and I, we'd all be dead. I know that. So please, don't feel guilty for not wanting all of us to die. No matter the circumstances, no matter what 'side' we were on. That doesn't make a difference. Just the fact that you regret what happened to me— it's— well it's more than I ever expected, or hoped for." She told him trying to reassure the man who'd stood by and watched her go through hell and back and been unable to do anything.

This man who had been party to the cause of her agony, her nightmares, her insecurity, her lasting damage. The scars on her arms could be hidden by glamours and makeup. But the scars on the inside— they would never go away.

But his regret— it was unexpected. She admitted to being surprised at his reaction. She had not anticipated that he would be able to admit his regret to her.

"Do you regret taking Voldemort's side?" She asked before she could stop the words from leaving her mouth. She needed to know the answer to that question, but maybe it was too soon to be asking that kind of thing of someone who was not even her lover.

He flinched and grimaced at the Dark Lord's name, even two years after the war's end. The scars were deep, and they had not faded for him, any more than they had for her.

"Do I regret it?" he paused trying to organise his thoughts into words, searching for a way to explain what he wanted to say. It was strange for Hermione to watch him act quite so humane.

He spoke again, slowly, as if explaining it to himself as much as to her, "What you should be asking is why I chose to support him in the first place."

Hermione frowned, she had assumed she knew the reasons already, but if he wanted to clarify it she wasn't going to stand in his way.

"Alright. Why did you choose to support Voldemort?"

He grimaced again at the name.

"Because it was _expected_ of me." He watched her jaw drop and he said, "Oh yes, I do know what _expectations_ can lead to Miss Granger. Now do you see? My father supported him. It was expected that I would as well and my son after me. If I refused, if I disagreed, I would no doubt have signed my own death warrant."

He watched confusion spread across her face and quickly continued, "Yes, I did hate muggle-borns, half-bloods and muggles. It was all I knew. It had been drilled into me since childhood. Purebloods were superior simply because of their birth. And I believed it to be true. It was only natural that I support the Dark Lord in our righteous cause."

Hermione understood what he was telling her so far but why was he explaining this to her? Why was he making himself vulnerable to her with this information? She had assumed that he had only wanted her body. So why make it personal? Why not just seduce her and leave her hanging, ignore her wishes completely and take what he wanted? Instead he was explaining himself to her. It was shocking to say the least.

"But when the killing began, my beliefs weakened." He continued. "Watching the people you grew up with die around you simply because they were not born with 'Pure blood' changes the way you see things. I still hated muggles, and half-bloods and yes, I still hated muggle-borns, but it was less of an intense need to eradicate than a certain ingrained dislike. And I realised, that it had always been just that. An ingrained dislike of them, born out of sheer survival instincts."

She could only imagine. Growing up in a house that condemned anyone who did not agree with what the general mass was saying would have been enough of an education to know that you agreed and went along with what they told you or you died.

"I wanted to withdraw my support but was warned that if I did, I would suffer the consequences. And then the power shift began. I was given more responsibility, more control over the forces that the Dark Lords command, he began to trust me with more important tasks. I felt useful for the first time in my life. I supported Voldemort not because I wanted to cleanse the wizarding world, but because I was addicted to the power and position being at his side brought me. It gave me respect, it gave me strength, and it gave me a purpose. And then his praise, his rewards, they were the most potent drug. I was euphoric for a time." Hermione knew what would come next. She could hear it in his voice, and from what little she had known about his situation during the war, she could easily predict where this would go downhill.

"But then, I started failing. I failed to bring him the prophecy in your fifth year, and then Draco failed to kill Dumbledore. I continued to fail at a number of other things and it caused a domino effect. He began to abuse his power over me. Physical punishments became common place. Verbal abuse, mental abuse, and above all fear… All of them used as weapons against me by the Dark Lord himself. Fear, not of death, but of something far worse. Eternal pain. It was his ultimate threat and one all the Death Eaters knew he could deliver on." Hermione watched as pained shadows flitted across his expression. He had suffered a great deal more than he was letting on, but Hermione chose to let the matter lie. If he wanted her to know, he would tell her.

"And I was afraid. For myself, for Draco, and for Narcissa. So I began to try harder, but for every success there was also a failure. And my circumstances went from horrifyingly bad to worse. It was a living hell when he came into my home. Endless months of always being on edge, constantly aware that my every thought was at his disposal. I was afraid to sleep, I was afraid to think, I was afraid to even breathe in my own home.

"And then when Bellatrix tortured you— the pretty, sweet, smart little _mudblood _that Draco spoke so often about, I couldn't stand to watch you suffer. So I did the cowardly thing and left the room. Your screams have haunted me ever since. If I had stayed, I don't know if Bellatrix would have hurt you in the way she did. And I will forever live with the regret of not knowing."

He looked at her in the eyes for the first time since he had begun to speak.

"Do I regret supporting him? To the extent that so many people including you had to suffer, _yes._ _I do regret it._ But I did it to save my family, and myself. I did it out of ignorance and cowardice. Draco has not forgiven me. And neither has Narcissa. She could not stay with me after I was released from Azkaban. Some things cannot be mended, no matter how close the bond, or how much it has endured. We both knew it was over. I have not forgiven myself for it. But you are probably wondering why I am explaining all this to you, hmm?"

She nodded 'yes', her eyes wide with confusion and surprise.

"I am telling you all of this, because I cannot stand by and watch you do something that will make you miserable for the rest of your life simply because it is _'expected._' Take my mistakes and learn from them. That is why I cannot leave you alone, that is why, you of all people. That is why I am 'tormenting' you. I want to see you happy, as ridiculous as that might sound. You are beautiful, young and intelligent. I saw that I could give you what you needed, whether it be an awakening or a warning. And if I can make you happy, then so be it. Call it what you wish. Atonement perhaps but please, heed my words." He said this while looking her in the eye steadily, gauging her true understanding of his words.

"I understand." She murmured half in a daze. His revelations were overwhelming to say the least, but she did truly understand.

"Do you really?"

"Yes, Lucius, I really do." She murmured, her voice conveying her level of sincerity. She reached out and placed a hand to his face, running her thumb across his high cheek bone. She pulled his head down to her and kissed him. It was a searching and gentle kiss. A question and a plea. 'Would he make her his? If she said yes? Could she trust him?'

He broke the kiss and she felt the loss keenly. "Oh Hermione," he breathed against her forehead gathering her to him and pulling her onto his lap. "Do not say yes, because you feel you have to. Please not that. I will not be another one to harm you with my 'expectations.' I have none. I demand nothing. It is your choice."

"Yes." She breathed and pulled him down to kiss her again. She needed him. Oh how she needed him. Now. Right now. She couldn't wait any longer. They'd been dancing around each other for so long, the tension mounting to surge into an unspeakable need for the other.

"Lucius, please, I need you."

"Yes," he growled into her ear, and ground his hips up to meet hers. She straddled his lap fully, the skirt of her sheath ridding up her thighs. She pushed back against him and held onto his shoulders. His hand slid up the back of her thigh, his movement fast but it still left a trail of fire along its path. He kissed her again searing and hard this time.

He pushed the remainder of her sheath up past her hips and he palmed her sex through her soaked black lace knickers.

She whimpered against his mouth and he groaned into the kiss. She pulled away for air, and caught his hand in her, still pressed against her but not moving. She pressed against his hand and fingers urging him on, desperate for him to touch her. When his hand started to move of its own accord against her labia through the soaked fabric she gasped and her hips jerked against his touch.

He caught her hip with his other hand and murmured in the crook of her neck, "Steady, my beauty, we've only just begun." His promise burned like fiendfyre through her body straight to her core. His hand didn't stop rubbing and she was desperate for him to touch her throbbing clit.

"Lucius! Please, _oh—" _She whimpered as his hand pulled away, only to gasp when he ripped her knickers off completely.

She spread her thighs wider and his hand returned, this time cupping hot, wet flesh and she cried out and pushed against him, needing him inside of her.

He was still wearing far too many clothes for her liking. She pulled his jacket off, tossing it to the living room floor. She carefully began unbuttoning his chemise hurriedly, her hands shaking. Not wanting to lose her nerve. _God,_ she was absolutely melting against his fingers. He rubbed and stroked her tender flesh, making her gasp and tremble against him.

Ron had never made her feel anything even close to this. She felt a momentary pang of guilt but quickly shoved such a useless emotion away. She'd made her choice.

She finally managed to undo all the buttons on his shirt and revealed a pale expanse of scared flesh. She gasped again but this time in shock. He had crisscrossing scars that were wide and deep against his torso and middle. She ran her hands over the taut flesh and felt a pang of pain and hatred towards the one who had marred his flesh. These wounds must have hurt more than she could ever imagine. And these were only the visible ones. She wondered how many times he'd been through the Cruciatus, how many times had he picked up the pieces of a broken self? How was he still sane? Was he still capable of love after all he had been through and all he had done?

"The Dark lord enjoyed using a variety of knives, usually dipped in snake venom for corporeal punishment. Not immediately deadly and effectively painful." He explained, his voice detached, trying to appear un-bothered by them. His face betrayed nothing, but his stiff posture as she touched his chest and scars told a different story.

"So strong," She murmured the words in awe, only half aware she said them aloud.

He looked at her gauging her meaning behind the words. The unspoken question clear in his eyes, 'Did she mean it?' She could almost see the wheels turning in Lucius's mind as he searched her face for an answer. He appeared satisfied by what he saw there.

"You are stronger." He replied quietly, but sincerely.

Hermione's eyebrows shot up in disbelief.

"I only survived torture once. You survived it for years on end and protected your family at all cost against a madman and you're telling me I'm stronger than you?" She asked incredulous.

"You may not have been through that kind of pain, but you went through a different kind. The choices you had to make as a young girl, the sacrifices you made to support Harry Potter, the fear you lived with to defy the Dark Lord. Hermione, I was a coward. I suffered the pain but I also did nothing to change my situation. I only made the best of it, if you can call it that." He let a short bark of false laughter escape him. The sound held a deep sense of bitterness.

Hermione closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. How could he believe that? Even when she'd been on the other side of the battle field she'd seen him fight to defend his family against anyone who approached them with ill intent. He had been willing to die for them.

"Do not ever call yourself a coward in my presence again, Lucius Malfoy." She growled furiously. He looked at her, startled and incredulous.

She continued, "I've seen you fight for those you love and I assure you. You are no coward. Misguided, afraid, trapped into a horrible situation, yes. You were brave to protect your family. You could have left Narcissa and Draco defenseless on the battlefield, but you didn't. You could have let them fend for themselves in the Dark Lord's service, let them suffer for your mistakes and their own, and you chose not to. It's the choices we make, that make us who we are. You've made a lot of bad choices but at the time they were the lesser of two evils. Does that make you a coward? The answer is no, it doesn't." Seeing him about to protest again, she covered his mouth with her hand playfully and smiled at him gently. "Many may disagree with me. Even you may disagree with me. But what good is being the insufferable know-it-all of the Golden Trio if I can't be consistently right against all odds?" She felt him smile against her palm and then felt a deep chuckle rumble through his chest and body.

She removed her hand from his mouth and he sighed. He wrapped his arms around her waist and crushed her to him. Feeling her soft body against his own hard one, pressing his face into her hair, and inhaling her scent.

"Peppermint?" He quietly questioned.

She chuckled. "It's my shampoo. It has peppermint oil in it. It helps me keep these curls under a semi form of control."

She reached up and touched his long blonde hair. He flinched and she pulled her hand back immediately.

He sighed and said, "No. Please, don't stop, it's alright. I have many bad memories of people pulling my hair. Your unexpected touch triggered a reflex reaction." He took her hand and placed it back on his head. She laced her fingers through his pale tresses, careful to avoid pulling. He leaned his head into her hand closing his eyes contentedly. The he leaned his head against her shoulder.

He pressed a kiss to her neck and she shivered, enjoying his warm mouth against the sensitive flesh there. He kissed a trail down from her jaw to her collar bone and back up.

"Lucius…." She exhaled, her hands now at his shoulders for support.

"Hmm?" He hummed against her skin and then chuckled when he got no more answer than a whimper from her.

He continued to kiss her there, gently nipping along the column of her neck with his teeth, and then soothing the pain away with his lips and tongue. All the urgency from before suddenly gone, replaced with a slow heat, not unlike molten lava. Strong and burning, yet unhurried, almost torturous in its slow pace.

His hand slid up her side, to her breast, cupping the mound of flesh in his hand through the fabric. She gasped, and couldn't help squirming in his lap, her arousal returned in full force.

With his other hand, he found her dripping center again, and coaxed a blazing inferno where before there were only hot embers.

He spread her soaking labia with a thumb and an index finger and dipped teasingly near her warm, wet, entrance. Her hips jerked against his hand again and he held her firmly, preventing any movement.

He stopped and looked up at her. She was sure her face was a flaming pink and her breath was coming in ragged gasps. She had never felt like this before. Desperation, longing and desire melded into one making it almost impossible to distinguish one from the other.

He grasped her nape and pulled her down for a searing kiss, his tongue tangling with hers more urgently now. She reached down and ground her palm against the bulge in his trousers and even dared to grip his impressive length through the fabric. He groaned into her mouth, and she trembled, the feeling of the power she had over this man with just a touch of her hand was delicious. Without warning he pressed a finger into her core and she cried out in surprise, but her cries quickly became pleasurable ones as he worked that finger in and out of her.

She couldn't help her hips rocking against his hand and he growled in her ear, "You're so tight witch. So wet and ready for me."

Hermione moaned and ground against his hand, her breathing coming in short sobbing gasps. She needed him and she needed him now. She couldn't wait any longer. But the sofa wasn't ideal, they needed more space.

Suddenly she caught his hand and pulled it away from her center, much to her own regret. Lucius quirked an eyebrow at her curiously. She stood up, still holding his hand, and tugged him up. He didn't question her, he just followed. She led him towards the guest bedroom, unable to imagine him in the bed she shared with Ron. Some boundaries were better left uncrossed.

Once in the guest bedroom he wasted no time in puling her onto the bed, on his lap and kissing her breathless once more. She could hardly believe this was really happening. If someone had told her a month ago that she'd be dying to shag Lucius Malfoy, she'd have hexed the person for even suggesting such a thing.

Now, here she was, enjoying his touch and practically begging for him to shag her senseless. He kissed her again deeply, she sighed against his mouth. He moved back to her neck and her head rolled back, in surrender, offering him more access.

Then all of a sudden he rolled them over and pinned her under him, holding her by her wrists.

Fear shot through her and she cried out and jerked in his arms. She pulled against his hold and he growled against her neck, enjoying her struggle thinking she was playing around.

The memory of Bellatrix's sneering visage entered her mind and she heard her laughter at her pathetic attempts at freeing herself and shuddered violently.

She whimpered, but not in pleasure. She was afraid. She felt tears prick her eyes and she could do nothing to prevent them.

Memories flashed in her mind again; the way Bellatrix had pinned her down to carve the word 'mudblood' in her arm, her inability to escape or stand from the floor in Malfoy Manor; Bellatrix hissing her threatening words and questions into her face.

"No! Stop!" She cried out, panicked, and continued to try and pull away from his strong grip.

She couldn't do this. Not like this. Not with him holding her down, making her helpless. She couldn't escape. She wasn't safe.

He pulled back from the crook of her neck frowning in confusion then he saw her tears and the naked fear in her eyes. He immediately released her and pulled back to stand at the bedside.

She whimpered again and pulled away from him, backing away to the far corner of the bed. He was completely at a loss, seeing her pull away from him in fear, for no apparent reason.

She rubbed her wrists, trying desperately to erase the feeling of being held down against her will. The memories were still so fresh in her mind. She remembered hearing Bellatrix cackling in her horrible high falsetto and shuddered again.

She knew that it wasn't his fault, that she shouldn't be afraid, that he would never hurt her—but she didn't know that, did she? He could still hurt her if he chose, he was so much stronger than her, and even if she said no, he could still have forced her.

She was shaking and she couldn't stop the tears from spilling down her face and the small sobs escaping her.

He approached her slowly, making sure she saw every move he was going to make before he made it, as if she were a wounded animal. And in truth, it did make her feel a bit safer.

"Can you explain to me what just happened?" He asked quietly, unsure of how to proceed.

One minute they'd been enjoying each other and the next she had been pushing him away like she was terrified. She nodded slowly, still rubbing her wrists with shaky hands.

"Y-you held me down..." She murmured in explanation, "I can't— Bellatrix, she—"

Lucius' eyes widened and then shut, as an immediate wave of remorse washed over him, before nodding, understanding where she was going.

"You said touching your hair when you aren't expecting it is a trigger for bad memories. Pinning me down is like making me relive that day on the floor of your dining room. I couldn't move. I couldn't get away. I was _helpless_." She sobbed the last word. "Please, don't ever hold me down."

"I'm so sorry Hermione." He said immediately, "I should have realised sooner that you were uncomfortable with being held down that like. Please forgive me. It was never my intention to harm you in any way." He murmured sincerely, and a little shaken. He seemed truly remorseful for having caused her any discomfort.

She instantly felt guilty for causing a scene, "Yes, I know. I'm sorry, I'm being silly, and I'm overreacting."

"It's not silly. And you are not overreacting." He said quietly. "That kind of trauma does not just go away if we don't think about it, if we don't talk about it and ignore the after effects. I know. Some days the memories are nearly unbearable and you think you're going to die because no one understands what you mean when you tell them you're in pain. They don't know, because they've never been through it."

Hermione looked at him again, seeing the shadow of old pain and sadness flicker across his features. She nodded at his words. It was exactly how she felt. And he was right. No one ever truly understood what she meant.

"You have nothing to apologise for." He continued, "I understand completely."

She knew he did. And that thought could have been almost comforting, had it not been about them both suffering unimaginable torture at the hands of psychopaths.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, about a half foot away from her. Neither one spoke for a long moment. She could see he was wondering whether it would be better if he left, or if he should stay. His hand was on the bed and she reached out and took it in her own. He looked at their joined hands startled.

"Thank you." She murmured softly, breaking the silence.

"For what?" he asked bewildered.

"For being so understanding." She said simply. The unspoken words hung in the. _'Thank you for being so understanding…when Ron never was.' _

He nodded again solemnly.

She pulled Lucius' hand up and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. He smiled but made no move to touch her, or look at her again. She took the moment to ask a question that had been bothering her since they had first met again.

"Why did you kiss my hand that first day?" She asked, tilting her head to the side, questioningly.

"I meant it as a peace offering. A sign that I would not cause you further pain. A sign of respect." He replied, still not looking at her.

"Lucius, please." She murmured, needing to see his eyes, to know what he was thinking. "Talk to me?" Still he did not turn to look at her.

At last he spoke, "How can you even allow me to touch you? After I left you to the mercy of an insane woman who tortured you. After I watched you suffer and did nothing? How can you call me brave and not despise me for everything I did during the war?" He asked incredulous, his voice pained.

She gapped at him momentarily shocked into silence.

She found her voice again, "Lucius, we've been over this. Had you done anything you would have died, and your family would have suffered and likely died along with you."

"That does not change the fact that I stood by and watched you scream in agony and did nothing. It changes nothing. I can't understand how you can bare to even look at me."

"It changes everything. I was one person Lucius, just one pion in the war. I knew what I was getting into when I stuck by Harry. I knew I could be tortured, raped and killed. I knew it and I took that risk upon myself. I appreciate your regret, but it is misplaced. I appreciate that you cared, and that you feel remorse. But I do not blame you for what Bellatrix did, nor even what you did under Voldemort." Lucius flinched at the name. "Fear is a weapon and we both had it used against us in the cruelest of circumstances. How could I hate you knowing you did it for your family? If I had been in your place I would have done the same thing—"

"That is not true." He growled interrupting her, "You would never have compromised your values, even for the safety of your family." He interrupted her, still refusing to look her in the eye, but his tone was no less vehement.

"Let's assume I had been raised with you value system then. Because if I had, then I am certain I would have tried to do the same things you did. Or at least, I hope I would have done." Lucius said nothing for a long moment. Hermione sighed and passed a hand over her face, tired, stressed and sexually frustrated. She made a mental note on the list of emotions never to mix if avoidable. She stood from the bed and straightened her dress, pulling it back down her thighs.

"I'm going to get my glass of wine. I think we both aren't nearly drunk enough for this. And I'm hungry. I'll bring back the plate of food." She murmured trying to make light of the whole statement. "And while I'm doing that, you need to decide if you want to stay here with me, or if you can't bear your own guilt and want to leave…." Again he said nothing, his expression, smooth and unreadable, hiding behind his mask of ice once again. "I hope you stay." She murmured as she went to the door.

She left him in her guest bedroom and went to get her glass of wine that had been abandoned on the coffee table. She levitated the two wine glasses and the plate of food back to the guest rooms with a flick of her wand.

As she walked back down the halls she wondered if he would stay or if he would leave. And what that meant for their 'relationship' and for her future.

She reached the closed door and put a hand on the door handle.

Would he leave? Or would he stay? She honestly had no idea, one way or the other. She could only hope.

~TBC~

* * *

**(A/n:** I'm sorry for the ending! This chapter was just too long... almost 20 pages on word, actually. I'll try not to leave you hanging for too long this time. Reviews would be most welcome. )


	8. Chapter 8: The things we do

Title: All of these things  
Chapter 8: The things we do  
Parings: LM/HG, RW/HG (implied)  
Rating: M  
Warnings: Smut, smut, and oh yes, more smut.  
Disclaimer: All rights to their rightful owners. I am not making any money writing this.  
Summary: It's been two years since the war finished. And Ron and Hermione are still together happy as can be. Just as they should be. Just as everyone said they would be. It was expected. They are happy together. They really are. Aren't they? Hermione find herself wondering if after all they've been through, after two years together if this is all there really is to 'Love'. Isn't that what she truly feels about Ron? But then, from the person she least expected to see again, a seed of doubt is planted. She loves Ron, but she is not in love with him. How will she react when that seed begins to grow, into a forbidden love of such magnitude she had never imagined it possible?

(A/n: OH MY GOD, I am so sorry I left it hanging _there_ of all places for so long! School started again and my job and well, ok, I won't bore you with excuses, point is, SORRY. Real life got crazy and I think everyone knows what that's like. So again I apologise profusely for such and obscenely long wait. Now, ENJOY!)

_Skin on skin  
touching senses  
at every tempo  
releasing pressure  
feeding the appetite  
of lust_

_Tongues like serpents_  
_teasing and luring each other_  
_sweat rolling_  
_mixing with glistening dew_  
_a perfect recipe_  
_in biology_  
_for_  
_bodies yielding under demand_  
_by nature for affirmation_  
_in creation_

_Now this is all sweet and nice_  
_but truth of the matter is_  
_I like it hard_  
_more often than I realize_  
_as long as being desired_  
_is in the mix_  
_Orgasmic cosmic_  
_explosion_  
_is guaranteed_

_How you like it-_ Vee Zurich

Hermione pushed open the door of her guest bedroom and found him still sitting on the bed. He sat with his face in his hands, his long blonde hair a curtain hiding him from the world. She set the platter of food and the wine glasses on the reading table near the bed. She sighed as she saw him, still not moving seeming to be trapped in an internal debate.

She decided to take the decision into her own hands since it was clearly causing him entirely too much anguish to decide himself.

She went to her knees in front of him and touched the hands on his face to pull them away. The removal of his hands revealed a conflicted visage, eyes filled with an internal war, and a glimmer of something all too familiar. She recognised it to be old pain that left a soul deep ache that could not be cured.

"Lucius." She whispered and he finally looked up at her. She knew what he needed to hear, to make the choice easier.

"I forgive you." She murmured, looking him straight in the eyes to make sure he saw how serious she was in her forgiveness. His expression became one of shock and amazement at her words.

"Truly?" He whispered, his voice rough and deep, needing to know whether she was just placating him or if she meant it.

"Truly." She replied with a faint smile before leaning in to kiss him gently. He reciprocated in kind. It was gentle and tentative letting her set the pace.

She let her hands slide around his shoulders, holding him to her.

His hands went to her waist, pulling her closer.

He broke the kiss and pressed his nose into her long curls sighing into them, "Oh, Hermione."

She clung to his shoulders and enjoyed the feel of his strong body against her own. His hand moved up her ribcage to cup her breast in his large palm through the material of her sheath. The food was instantly forgotten as she arched into his touch whimpering. He pinched her nipple through the fabric and she moaned. Her hands at his shoulders became claws of need as she dug her nails into his shoulders, urging him on.

She licked her lips and panted, "Lucius please." He groaned against her neck at her words and she ground her hips against his lap, feeling his undeniable erection straining against the confines of his trousers.

She gasped, realising just how big he really was.

It had been ages since she had done anything with Ron and judging by what she felt in the zipped confines of Lucius's trousers, she wasn't sure if he would fit. She'd certainly never taken anyone that big before. He smirked at her obvious surprise, before kissing her deeply again.

He lifted her head to so she would look at him in the eyes. Placing a finger under her chin, he rubbed his thumb along her bottom lip again causing her to tremble in his arms.

Then he made her lift her arms to tug her dress over her head, leaving her in only her flimsy black bra; the matching panties had been removed earlier, tossed to the living room floor carelessly.

Flinching slightly she shut her eyes, not wanting to see his reaction to her jagged scar on her abdomen.

"Hermione, look at me." He commanded softly. She bit her lip anxiously, but none the less opened her eyes. Cool grey pools and a soft smile met her.

"You are beautiful." He murmured reassuringly.

She looked at him doubtfully, releasing a breath she hadn't realised she had been holding in.

Even Ron wouldn't go so far as to call her beautiful. She had a nice enough face and she was fit, but her breasts were small, she had slim hips and the long scar on her abdomen looked like someone had taken a hacksaw to her lower belly. The healers at St. Mungo's had operated to fix her womb as much as possible…but without much success. Magical scars were the devil themselves to heal properly.

Ron made sure never to look at her scar when they had sex. He said it put him 'off'.

She looked away from him, shame making her cheeks burn once more. She couldn't bear to see the pity in his eyes, especially not from him of all people.

"Look at me." He commanded once more. She turned to look at him hesitantly, trying to fight the tears of shame she felt threatening to spill over. A few spilt anyway and to her surprise he kissed them away tenderly.

"You. Are. Beautiful." He repeated, emphasising each word meaningfully.

Hearing those words repeated with such feeling—it was impossible not to believe him.

He kissed her once more and then reached up to un-due the bra clasp at her front, letting the bra fall gracefully to the floor. She was now fully naked on his lap, her eyes glazed with heady arousal.

Her breathing was ragged and shallow.

His hand reached up and cupped her breast in the palm of his hand, finding it a perfect fit. Feeling his cool hand on her over heated flesh made her gasp, and when he ran a thumb over her nipple she bit her lip and whimpered.

He kissed her shoulder down to her clavicle, then to her breast and finally he wrapped his mouth around one tight rosy bud. She cried out and arched her back, into his touch.

He suckled, nibbling and licking at her left breast for a moment before giving the other nipple the same treatment. She couldn't do anything to restrain her desperate moans of need. She placed her hands on his shoulders to steady herself and dug her nails into the bare skin there. He groaned against her skin, the sharp dig of her nails causing both pain and pleasure.

He rolled her over onto the bed, beneath him once more. The time he was careful not to restrain her in any way.

Then he stood up and removed the last of his clothing, letting it fall to the floor and stood completely naked in front of her. She devoured every inch of the expanse of pale skin before. There were more scars, but she wasn't bothered in the least. She followed the lines of his chest downward finally settling on the bulge she had felt earlier.

Her eyes widened. She had underestimated him; he was even bigger than what she had previously guessed at. His large and slightly arched cock stood proudly in front of her. She wondered if he would even fit completely. She felt a wave of sharp arousal wash through her straight to her core. She wanted to find out.

His muscles flexed as he moved and she was suddenly reminded of a lion as it stalked it prey. The same predatory gaze was present in Lucius's eyes as he moved back towards the bed. He placed a cool palm to her waist guiding her to sit back up. She did as instructed and he guided her back onto his lap, his eyes never leaving hers.

With one hand he tilted her head to the side, exposing her neck to him. He kissed teasingly up and down the side of her neck, nipping occasionally. His other hand reached up to cup her breast and pinched her nipple once more. She straddled him more fully, spreading her thighs wider, loving the feel of his skin against hers.

It was her turn to cup his jaw and pull him away from her neck and shoulders back up to face level. She kissed him deeply, letting him know she was ready for more. Yet still he hesitated. She could sense it in his movements, his reluctance to take the final steps.

She groaned against his mouth in frustration. He misinterpreted the sound and he pulled away breaking the kiss, searching her face for reassurance that she was still all right.

'To hell with caution', she thought recklessly. She had a sudden sense that she had forgotten something, but couldn't remember what it was.

She reached down between them and took his cock in her small hand. She was almost peeved to discover she could not make a fist around it. He gasped at her sudden boldness and caught the hand holding his cock. She stroked once firmly and his hips jerked. His breathing quickened and he groaned reaching down to her hand to prevent further movement.

"Sweet Salazaar, help me woman, are you _certain?_" He panted out, obviously fighting for self-control.

She was past caring about decency and was not above begging at this point.

Hermione guided the head of his cock against her nether lips and moaned, "Yes, oh god, please!"

He growled at the sound of her begging. It showed him just how far gone she truly was.

"Lucius." She whimpered. " Please. _Inside. _I need you inside me."

He kissed her again. It was deep and searing as if he was searching for something. His tongue played with hers moving up and around her own for a moment before pulling away and taking his cock in hand pressed against her entrance. She gasped and pressed against him pleadingly.

Then he pushed the head in and the first two inches. Hermione gasped and moaned, her body contracting around his length, pulling him deeper in. He went slowly, sensing her unease, letting her adjust to his size, inch by delicious inch.

She could tell he was having a difficult time not taking her fast and hard. She almost wanted him to, but with every inch she felt fill her, she was glad that he did not. At least, not yet.

He kissed her deeply once more, his kiss almost bruising in its intensity.

He continued to press in slowly and she contracted around him reflexively. He gasped against her lips and hissed as he sheathed himself fully inside her, "Finally! So good my little witch. So tight and wet for me."

Hermione was astounded. She had never had such a feeling of immediate fullness. The position, his length and size made her sway with sensations coursing through her. His arms held her upright, wrapping around her waist firmly.

"Lucius, _oh_…" she whimpered helplessly.

He began to move slowly, making sure he wouldn't hurt her. He pulled out to the tip then thrust in fully. Hermione cried out in delight, the sensations of being stretched so full and feeling him inside of her were overwhelming. Her nails dug into his shoulders.

"More, more. Harder, I want to feel all of you." She murmured, shocking herself with her own request. She had never liked it rough before.

He groaned and thrust deeply, then withdrew before ploughing into her once more.

"Yes!" She panted and pushed back to meet his every thrust.

"You are mine. All mine. I'm going to fuck you so deep and hard you'll never want another." Lucius murmured.

"Yes! Yours! Oh god… I'm going to—" He pinched her nipple hard and she cried out in pain. The sharp shock stopped her from coming just before she hit her peak.

She whimpered bereft and frowned at him confused. "Why—?"

"You won't come until I let you. Is that understood?" His tone of voice demanded no refusals.

"Yes." She murmured surprised but pleased at his dominance of her body.

He thrust slowly, picking up the pace gradually. Her moans and his whispered words of encouragement were the only sounds to break the air.

Finally, when he had begun to move at a steady pace, his hand found her clit and stroked in time to his thrusts causing her to get lost in the sensations. He brought her right to the edge once more and she cried out panting and sobbing with the need for release.

"Oh please!" she begged again.

"Please what?" he asked still holding her there on the tip of release.

"Please let me come, Sir!" She sobbed helplessly.

His eyes widened at her address of him then they darkened with feral lust and his thrusts increased in strength and she moaned again.

"Come around me now, beautiful creature. I want it. I've wanted it for so long." He growled into her ear, panting as he thrust.

His commanding voice penetrated the haze of her lust and she came hard, wave after wave of delicious pleasure pulsing through her core.

"I'm coming! I'm coming so hard! Oh _fuck_! Lucius!" She cried out. She'd never been vocal before during sex, but as always Lucius brought out the dark sensuality in her.

"Yes, witch that's it. Come for me." He growled passionately. His fingers found her clit and rubbed in fast hard circles as she came.

"I can't—I can't! Not again!" She whimpered as his relentless fingers played with her clit, making her cry out over and over again.

He knew that she could. He knew that she would.

He quickened his thrusts and he felt her tight wet walls contract around him harder still and she screamed as she jerked in his arms then reached her second orgasm.

"Yes!" He groaned and ploughed into her once more before stilling. He came hard inside of her and felt every spasm of his seed hitting her tight walls, filling her core with his essence.

Hermione couldn't take it the pleasure was too much. She collapsed on the bed, exhausted and unable to move to save her life.

The sense of satisfaction at their mutual completion almost tangible as they both came down from their high of ecstasy.

'At last, that's what it should be like.' Was all she could think to herself before the darkness of sleep overtook her.

She was awakened only an hour or two later as she smelled smoke and candle wax, hearing a soft voice calling her.

"Hermione, pet, wake up please." The voice also had a hand that touched her cheek tenderly.

She groaned in protest and placed a hand over her eyes. She'd been having the most pleasant dream about a certain blonde man.

She heard said blonde chuckled at her protests. "Come now, I have a bath ready, and if I remember correctly, you said something about being hungry earlier. We really mustn't let such fine wine go to waste." She was indeed hungry and groaned again.

It was her turn to smirk as she sat up slowly, sleep still calling her back to bed. She opened her eyes at last and saw him smirking right back at her, sitting on the edge of her bed, still naked as the day he was born.

She stood with him and winced as her body protested.

He noticed and murmured, "Sore?"

She simply nodded.

He sighed regretfully and kissed her softly before taking her hand in his and murmuring,

"Come. The bath is ready." He led her into the en suite bathroom and her eyes widened at the sight before her. Candles lit around a huge claw footbath filled with warm scented water.

"I don't remember having a claw foot tub in here…" She murmured teasingly. He merely shrugged, but she could tell he had indeed transfigured her old bathtub into this new luxurious one.

"I call it an improvement." He replied arrogantly.

She swatted his buttock playfully. He raised one eyebrow and then his eyes narrowed menacingly.

Her own eyes widened as he bent down and scooped her up in his arms without any ceremony.

She squeaked and gasped, "Lucius! What are you—?"

He ignored her and proceeded to seat them both in the hot water, with her back to his chest.

"Hmph."

He chuckled at her again before reaching for her bottle of shampoo, placing a dollop in his palm; he began to wash her hair. She sighed and tilted her head back to give him better access.

"Oh that feels heavenly." She sighed as he ran his fingers along her scalp, untangling her hair and cleaning it at the same time. He continued for a good long time, much longer than necessary but he knew she would enjoy it. Then he moved on to the conditioner and repeated the actions, except this time he left it in.

He reached for the bar of vanilla scented soap. He lathered up his hands and began to run them up and down her shoulder blades.

She groaned as his nimble fingers drew out all the tension in her muscles there, massaging instead of washing her.

He finished her massage and continued washing the rest of her.

Running his soap-covered hands along her arms, middle, briefly over her breasts and then down lower, to the tuft of hair between her thighs.

He was gentle and thorough, clinical even.

She was relieved. It would take her a full day to recover from their last encounter.

He reached for his wand which he had placed by the bath, and said, "Accio wine glasses. Accio food plate." The items in question came floating into the bathroom and landed gently on the ground beside the bath. He offered her glass and she took it gratefully.

He watched attentively as she took a mouthful and a droplet slipped past her lips down to her chin. She swallowed and the droplet dripped down to her neck. His eyes followed it intensely before leaning down and licking it away. She gasped and frowned at him curiously.

"You missed a drop." He whispered.

She nodded, understanding his actions now.

"Are you hungry?" He asked, his voice rough and tense.

At the mention of food, her mouth salivated and she nodded 'Yes' once more.

He lifted a piece of sliced pear with a piece of Brie cheese onto and guided it to her mouth. She took a bite and let her tongue flick against his fingers as she did so.

She even went so far as to nibble on his thumb as she took the second bite.

"Why you little vixen." He murmured, his voice rough and deep with arousal. She could feel his hardness pressed against her back, thick and rigid as an iron rod. "I try to be nice by feeding you and you tease me when I cannot have you."

"You can't? Or you won't?" she asked teasing him again.

"Can't and won't. I will hurt you and that is not something I wish to do."

"Really?" she asked curiously, and he raised an eyebrow as if to ask, why should she question him on this?

"I seem to recall a few instances where you threatened to…what was it you said? Ah yes, 'Take me over your knee and spank me'?"

"There are different kinds of pain, my sweet. The kind I spoke of implied much pleasure, as well as pain, but at the moment you are sore. There may come a day when you will take me with ease but for now, your body demands rest. And rest it shall be given."

She pouted, annoyed at his logic and he kissed her deeply, tormenting her now. She groaned against his lips and pressed herself closer to him and he nipped her bottom lip provocatively.

When he pulled away she asked, "Would you really?"

"Would I really what pet?"

"Would you really s-spank me?" She managed to say, her face beet red just at the thought.

She was surprised to realise that she would not be averse to him doing so if it meant him being as controlling as before and giving her pleasure similar to what they had just shared again.

"Perhaps, if the occasion called for it and you were amenable, but then and only then pet. It would never be done to cause true pain. I am not the sort to enjoy that kind of thing."

He helped her rinse off the remaining soap and they stood up. He wrapped her in a warm towel, then himself in a bathrobe and took her hand, leading her once more. He summoned the food to follow them back to the bedroom.

Settling on the bed again, he placed the food where he could reach it and fed her a few more times. She continued to taunt him, and his arousal was obvious and still he did nothing.

He broke the silence at last. "You called me Sir."

"I did."

"Do you know what that means pet?" he asked, his gaze predatory once more. She truly felt the part of the prey in that instant.

"I think I do." She whispered, blushing furiously once more.

"Oh, I hope you do my sweet." He murmured, his icy grey eyes darkening with lust.

She shivered in his arms at his tone of voice.

He stood up once more taking her with him.

"Let me clarify what it means." She waited for him to elaborate.

"Get on your knees." He commanded.

When she didn't obey at once he growled low in her ear, "Get on your knees or I will take you over my knee, right now, sore or not."

She didn't hesitate this time.

Once she was on her knees in front of him, she waited for further instruction. She couldn't deny the flood of wet heat between her thighs. This side of Lucius was new, slightly scary and controlling, but also sexy as hell and incredibly arousing to her.

"Take me in your mouth and pleasure me." He stated in a bored tone of voice, as though telling a secretary to take notes during a meeting.

She had learned her lesson. She didn't hesitate as she reached out and took him into her mouth. She had done this before, but never with someone of Lucius's size. She'd never understood why other girls said they found the act unpleasant. If a man was in any way hygienic, then it was not at all repulsive. Hermione had actually learned to enjoy this particular act and the power it gave her to see a man taking his pleasure from her.

There was no way she could take all of him and he seemed to understand that when he didn't tell her to take more of him. He placed a hand in her hair, but not once did he try to push her down onto him. It was simply there as an encouragement and a reassurance.

She licked the head of his cock and teased his slit with the tip of her tongue, then twirled around the head before taking as much of him as she could. It only took a few moments of her lips dragging up and down his length and her hands taking what her mouth couldn't before he tried to push her away. Instead she held on and swallowed his seed, enjoying the salty taste of him on her tongue. He came hard and he moaned as she swallowed his come willingly.

She pulled away once he was finished and smirked up at him then licked her lips.

He ran his thumb along her lips and chuckled.

"Another talent you must be commended for Miss Granger." She giggled shyly.

"Good girl." He murmured warmly. She glowed under his praise.

"Now do you understand what it means to call me 'Sir'?" he asked as if he were a teacher trying to explain an abstract concept in a classroom.

"Not completely, no." she replied truthfully, her eyebrows furrowing. She understood it meant obedience, but what else exactly? She'd heard the term used in BDMS situations, but she was certain this wasn't there case. She needed a definition she could fall back on.

"Let me explain in a more theoretical sense then. When you call me 'Sir' you are telling me that I am in control of you. That you are mine to do with as I see fit. That you will obey me when I give you an order and that you will take any punishment I see fit to give you if you disobey me. You are telling me that you trust me completely. However, this would only apply in the bedroom. Outside of any sexual situations we are still the same people as always. Do you understand?"

"Yes." She replied, certain now of exactly what it implied.

"Do you still feel the need to call me 'Sir' now that you know what I would expect of you?"

"Yes, Sir."

"That's my girl." He murmured pleased.

She smiled and couldn't prevent a yawn from escaping her. "You are tired. Come, let's go to bed."

She let herself be led back onto the bed. She really was very tired now and the two wine glasses she managed to drink during the evening must have affected her more than she'd thought.

She sighed as she nestled against his chest, his arms wrapped around her as a blanket on her. With Lucius there with her she felt warm and safe, not to mention that she was well beyond content.

~TBC~

(A/n: I did say there was a lot of smut didn't I? More content next time. And I will do my damned best not to leave you all hanging like that again. I don't expect reviews, but I can't deny it's very nice to hear from my readers. Drop me a line if you've got the time.)


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